


The Tale of Sean Pierce

by TheShinyLizard



Category: NCIS, NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShinyLizard/pseuds/TheShinyLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Anthony Dinozzo gets a call from his estranged father he goes on the run, again. He leaves behind Gibbs and the team who are left searching for him. His leaving the team drives home something Gibbs had never thought of before, he didn't want Tony to leave him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Disclaimer. This is a work of fiction. I do not own NCIS nor do I gain money from it.

Chapter 1

Gibbs had left to speak to Director Vance, leaving the team to finish up paperwork after a slow week. Though if the senior field agent Anthony Dinozzo was actually doing work one could only guess. Tony had thrown more than a dozen paper balls flying into McGee's trash can, annoying the other agent, more and more each time.

The phone rang on Tony's desk, causing him to jump in his chair. The only female member of the team, Officer Ziva David, cocked her eyebrow at him, chuckling to herself in the silence of the bullpen.

"Very Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo." The man plastered on his own patented charm and smile, giving the caller that extra special attention.

"Anthony my boy." Tony's face fell at the familiar sound of the voice on the other end of the phone. His right eyelid twitched, fingers clenching on the cord of the phone.

Ziva and Tim glanced up from their computer to screens hoping to catch a snippet of the conversation. The lack of a grin on their usually jovial teammate's face caused them to pause in their work, listening intently to the otherwise private conversation.

"You should know by now Anthony, You can't hide from me. You are mine." Tony Dinozzo slammed the phone down and glared at the evil machine as if he could set it on fire by will power alone

The senior field agent dropped his head into his hands, shaking. The other agents in the bullpen watched with keen interest, holding their tongues from unleashing a volley of investigative questions.

"Seven years" Tony whispered to himself, shaking his head to clear the jungle that were his thoughts. "For seven years I've been here. Why'd he have to take so long this time?"

He rubbed a hand in his perfectly coiffed hair, botching the style. He glanced around; looking to MTAC, knowing his boss was still in there with the director. It was eleven in the morning on a beautiful Friday; he should have known his luck wouldn't hold out. He couldn't stay here, his father would come for him sometime and he needed to be long gone before his father got to his apartment. Decision made Tony stood up from the chair, grabbing his night bag and sport coat.

"Tell the boss I'm taking a lunch break." Tim nodded, suddenly too engrossed in his computer to glance up and acknowledge the departing man. What could he say, he didn't know what had happened but something had spooked him. Ziva pretended to ignore him as he walked by, but her eyes trailed after him as he left on the elevator.

Tony drove to his apartment, no music blaring, or quick turns, and he followed all the speed limits meticulously. His mind was whirling and his body was reacting automatically. He was in a pensive state, vaguely aware of each turn and stop light. When he arrived at his apartment he would be momentarily shocked he hadn't crash. Along the way he had listed and detailed everything mentally, nothing could be written down in the event that his father could use it figure out his newest refuge.

At his apartment the phone call seemed too surreal for it to have actually occurred. He had thought he had finally found the one place his father could not touch him, the one place where he was invisible to his father.

Tony sighed, glancing around his apartment. He seemed to have accumulated more than twice the amount of clothes, DVDs and electronics here than he usually did before he had to abruptly leave. The sentimental items would have to stay behind. He couldn't explain to someone why he had an NCIS baseball, basketball, or football tournament shirt or who the people in the pictures were each time he moved. Although the Baltimore PD memorabilia followed him around though, formerly being a police officer had always been a good reference for jobs.

A small framed photo in his bedroom caught his eye and he picked it up, tracing the smooth frame. It was a picture of Gibbs and himself laughing together after a tough game of basketball against McGee and Ziva. Their shirts were draped across their shoulders, sweat glistening, and the triumph of a hard fought victory in their grins. Abby had candidly photographed them and later gifted it to Tony in a dark wood frame. She had written a note with it saying it was the happiest she had ever seen him. He had always smiled whenever he saw the picture, not today though. He threw the picture to the ground, grinding the glass under his heel angrily. It didn't help though.

He had more photos than he knew what to do with. There were photos on the walls and tables, some in the hall way and more personal ones in his bedroom, seven years worth of friendships and betrayals. There were pictures of the team from crime scenes, candid shots of them doing what they did best. Some of his favorites were just pictures of the team hanging out on the weekends together as a group, including Abby, the bouncing gothic forensic scientist. There was only one picture of Gibbs and him together though and now that one was on the floor.

He took the time to clean up the broken glass, staring at the slightly scratched picture. Would it really be that bad to have one keepsake of this life at NCIS. Before he could think twice and question himself he folded the photo and slipped it into his wallet. The broken frame and glass he tossed into a trash compactor on his way out and he adjusted the other picture frames to look like none of them were missing; there was no need for anyone to know that in fact a picture was missing. The other pictures he left waiting for his father's temper. Tony's father was no fool; he wouldn't pursue Tony's colleagues at NCIS in a vain hope for information. Attacking a federal agent would only raise questions and impede the elder Dinozzo's relentless search. Besides Tony knew his team could handle anything his father might throw at them.

Tony couldn't afford to leave his apartment appearing vacant. If his father could call him on a secured NCIS line than the man already knew where he lived. He packed seven of his favorite suits and shoes, hearing Kate mutter in his head that he had more shoes than most of the women he had dated. He threw in some casual outfits he didn't wear as often, his dress shirts, some sweaters and jackets, and a couple of ties in for good measure. The large suitcase was filled to the brim, just shy of the weight limit.

Tony's cell phone rang in his back pocket, but he ignored it, instead he was busy switching out cards and various other forms of identification trading Anthony Dinozzo for Sean Pierce. Arrangements had already been set in place for the name, there was an offshore bank account and he had his college diploma secretly registered under the other name. He reserved a seat on various flights, three of them under the name of Anthony Dinozzo and two under Sean Pierce. He then packed up his personal laptop computer.

The last thing he did before leaving his home for seven years was retrieve an envelope from a lockbox, carrying five thousand dollars in foreign bills and in small denominations, enough to sustain him until he was safe to withdraw from his account as Sean Pierce.

It had taken less than two hours to pack up his life and abandon it.

Anthony Dinozzo drove back to NCIS with the suitcase in the trunk. The trip had unexpectedly taken longer than necessary, but for it to seem an actual lunch he stopped and picked up some fast food for the team, remembering everyone's personal preference. It had been a slow day just like it had been for the past few weeks; they wouldn't miss him at work.

When he arrived at work, food in hand, two faces brightened and popped up from behind their computers, Ziva and McGee graciously accepted the food. Their stomachs rumbled in agreement from the first bites, the two of them mumbling a clogged artery felt 'thank you'. He left the last hamburger on Gibb's desk.

The group sat for hours, occasionally speaking about old cases or cracking a joke in the otherwise silent atmosphere. Gibbs came down from MTAC a few minutes after Tony came back from lunch, a surprised expression on his face when he saw the paper bag. He glanced across at Tony, already knowing that the mountain of meat would never have come from Ziva, and McGee had yet to remember correctly what his favorite style of burger is and which joint to buy it from.

Tony remained uncharacteristically silent the rest of the day. He laughed at the jokes from McGee, cackled at the mutterings of Ziva when her computer frustrated her and threatening it within an inch of its nonexistent life as if that would somehow make it listen to her. Overall he made no attempts to brighten the atmosphere.

"Hey Tony." McGee stepped up from his desk, backpack in hand.

"Hmm?" The senior agent leaned back in his office chair, his hands behind his head. His green eyes straying away to that ceiling tile that resembled an Ashton Martin DB5, refusing to look the slightly younger man in the face, though not obviously avoiding him in the view.

"You've been quiet today Tony. You alright there?" Tony cocked his head to the side, giving the younger man his Dinozzo grin.

The Italian jumped up, hands thrown to his face in shock and indignation. "You're turning into a chick and wanting me to talk about my feelings with you Probie?"

"Never mind Tony. Enjoy your date tonight, or your hand." The other agent muttered the last part to himself, conscious of an old gunnery sergeant's ears behind him.

Agent David left shortly after McGee and his awkward attempt at a conversation. She did not try to repeat the experience herself, even if concern was evident on her face while she lingered in front of his desk. Around six o'clock Gibbs stood from his desk, pressing a hand against his lower back in an attempt to alleviate the pressure that had built up over the day. Most of the other members of NCIS had left the building, making it eerily quiet on that early Friday night.

"Good Night Din…" The gunnery sergeant paused, finally getting a good look at his senior agent and seeing the dark eyes and the faraway look, something was clearly haunting him. "Tony, get some rest tonight."

Gibbs pulled his gun from the drawer, holstering it as he walked to the awaiting elevator. Once the elevators doors shut Tony cleaned out his desk. He removed Gibbs' many medals, placing them on top of the marine's desk. Anything that could be disposed of was thrown into the trashcan. His badge and gun he left on the top of his desk while he cleaned. This felt like it was a mission, his last mission at NCIS. He threw out his old prank supplies. The latest idea for a prank discarded, the head slap it would have earned went away with it too. Part of him would miss the head slaps, and the dizzying affect some of them had when Gibbs was particularly unimpressed. A list of contacts was sent to Tim in an e-mail, it was a list of his lesser known sources that were often his reason for suddenly breaking a case. At the end, his desk was spotless.

Soon to be former Agent Dinozzo moved away from his desk, the top pristine, and clear of his personal belongings. He had his coat over one arm, badge and his holstered service weapon in his other hand as he surveyed the damage of the past fifteen minutes. There was nothing else for him to do but face the proverbial music, resigning his post at NCIS.

The first step on the stairs was monumental, his first step out of his life. He could still turn back. He could face his father. He could stay here. He could put his life and his team at risk, betting on his father's old age and temper. The metal railing was oddly cold beneath his fingers as he grasped it like a life line and tugged his body up the stairs. He could move onto another life and forget the one he had here. He could keep everyone safe by staying away from his deranged and resourceful father. He had done it before and he could do it again.

"Director Vance." Tony walked into the office, the secretary had long since left for the day, just like everyone else. Most likely the director had allowed her to leave while he worked on finishing the paper work for the week. The evening news was on while Vance finished paper work, hoping for a relaxing Friday night with the wife and kids at home.

"Agent Dinozzo, I thought you would have left by now seeing as it is Friday night and…" Vance looked at his watch, "past seven o'clock."

"I'm leaving sir." He choked on the words as they came out of his mouth. The badge and handgun were laid to rest on Director Vance's desk, a light thump was the only noise in the office.

Clearly confused, the director moved to speak, but Tony held up a hand to stop him. "You can't say or do anything to stop me sir."

The director watched his agent, calculating each move as if it were a game of chess or politics. He glimpsed the hint of a scared man in Tony's demeanor before he his flamboyant personality flashed back into the award winning charm he used to fool the world.

Tony moved for the door, pulling on the handle when the director stood and walked to the other side of his desk. Awkwardly he touched Tony's shoulder, "If you need anything."

"All I need is me." Tony whispered, his eyes downcast, body shrinking in on itself, trying to disappear into thin air. "That's the way it always has been, that's the way it always will be."

Anthony Dinozzo walked out of the NCIS building with hands in his sport coat and mind whirling a mile a minute over every detail he had planned that day, changing his life in an instant to escape the whims of a rich mad man. The whims of his father.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Gibbs entered the office on Monday morning scowling, his coffee had spilled in his car and there was an accident on the road making his drive over an hour and a half. One sharp look at the bull pen and something was amiss, more importantly someone was later than him. Dinozzo was late. Officer David and Agent McGee had their computers ready and waiting for their paperwork assignments of the day.

"We've got a body in Quantico." Two faces perked up, then immediately soured as though remembering that though it meant they were out of the office, someone had died for that to happen.

"Where's Dinozzo?" He paused at his desk. Gibbs' medals that Dinozzo had hoarded in his desk were now on his desk.

"He hasn't come in yet Boss." McGee said, hiking the backpack onto his shoulders.

"I'll call him on the road then." Gibbs grunted out, pushing the medals out of his mind.

The team left the base, Gibbs calling his way ward agent until they reached the crime scene on one of the northern beaches in Quantico. Two lovers had found the body when they went into the woods by the beach looking for a romantic spot for the night. When they found the body they immediately called emergency services, and their statement to the arriving MP was that they didn't know anything about the body and just found him like that. The military police then called the NCIS team to come in and investigate the mess.

One body, presumably male from look of the charred remains. The medical examiner, Ducky would confirm that for the record, though a corpse this badly burned would take a bit more time than usual. The beach was unsurprisingly burn free, most likely a body dump then. That left some immediate questions, where had the fire originally taken place, who was the corpse, none of which could be solved right then.

"McGee photos. David take a look around the perimeter." Gibbs barked out, angrily dialing Dinozzo's number again on his cell phone.

The phone went to voice mail again. "And will someone tell me where the hell Dinozzo is at that he thinks he can miss work on a Monday morning?"

Gibbs did not attempt to reach Dinozzo again that morning. If the man was going to be late and not show up for work he knows to be prepared for a reaming, and for a size 12 boot going up his ass.

Ducky, the Medical examiner, and his assistant Palmer eventually showed up later then everyone else as per usual. A grand tangent forming in the M.E.'s mind when he stepped to the body burned to a crisp.

"This reminds me of the time my Uncle Ernest took me to go camping…" Gibbs tuned him out, focusing on the case, not on his medical examiner's sensational retelling of his memories.

After arranging all the evidence into the truck and the body with Ducky the crew left the beach, heading back to the NCIS head quarters. Tim and Ziva requested a brief trip to a burger joint for a midday meal, Gibbs relenting and munching on a burger himself on the drive back.

Ziva went to Abby with what evidence they could collect in hand, a dropped finger on the way from the road the piece of evidence in the case all but confirming the body dump theory they had formed while at the beach.

Back in the bullpen he saw the medals again for the second time that day, reminding him of his missing agent. A stray thought running through his head, questioning why Tony would leave the medals on his desk. They had an unspoken agreement that he would collect any of his medals. Gibbs looked across the way at the empty desk, a stark contrast the clutter that had been there on Friday when he left the office, when he was still sitting at his desk. When he was where he was supposed to be. He remembered Dinozzo leaving for any early lunch that day, coming back with food that he knew from personal experience was around the corner from his apartment. Gibbs pulled out his cell phone again, speed dialing Dinozzo for the umpteenth time that day.

McGee stopped typing, head cocked to the side, and he slowly turned to Dinozzo's desk. He stepped over to the other desk, fingers raised, hesitating to open the drawer. The call went to voice mail again and Gibbs slammed the phone onto the desk, the medals shoved to the side. Where the hell was Dinozzo. The ringing from Dinozzo's desk stopped too. McGee opened up the top drawer, pulling out a cell phone, Tony's cell phone.

"McGee. You know Tony will get mad if he catches you touching his stuff."Abby and Ziva joined them in the bullpen.

"Tony Dinozzo is no longer with NCIS." Director Vance said from the landing above.

"What do you mean? Tony would never leave NCIS, he likes it here." Abby came forward, crossing her arms over her chest.

"He left on Friday night."

"Finish the case NOW." Gibbs roared, slamming his hand on the top of his desk, unleashing his wrath. The team quickly set to work, searching all of the leads they had from the beach and one from the young couple. Abby left for her labs, mentally running through the evidence and what had first priority.

The team was holding it together until they could begin the search for one Anthony Dinozzo, former NCIS agent. No mistakes were excused on this case though; the office stayed quiet while he seethed in anger, any talking was done in hushed tones. At night he went home to drink bourbon and he had to buy a new bottle on Wednesday when he finished the old one that had been nearly empty when the week started. There was no mercy in the interrogation room, a judge might have called this cruel for the suspects to be subjected to the Gibbs' ire but said anything and it also solved the case faster because none of the suspects were willing to be in there longer than five minutes.

Gibbs even left the medals on his desk in plain sight for everyone to see as a constant reminder of why this case had to be closed. The empty desk in the corner though was an even better encouragement. The playful banter and silly antics that came from the corner were sorely missed. McGee and David nearly stopped talking altogether while they worked. They only spoke when they had something to contribute to the case, unwilling to try Gibb's temper and patience.

McGee paused in his work, Gibbs having just went down the elevator to the Ducky. "Ya know if Tony were here he'd do something just to get the boss to…"

"Tony is not here though, and I for one am finding it strange that I miss his antics and snooping." Ziva curtly responded, interrupting McGee.

"Well the sooner we find him the sooner everything will be back to normal and Gibbs won't want to punch a suspect anymore... Hopefully." Timothy searched again through Tony's records, while doing another search for the case.

Thursday night the case was solved, they find out that the burned body had been a young man, barely 25 years old, a Sgt Peter Caffrery, who had been suspected of having relations with another man, Sgt Neal Burke, whose body was later found in his bath tub, also burned. Thanks to some heavily prejudiced men they sought to teach the homosexuals a lesson. It quickly went out of control and the bodies were dumped in separate locations. In the end, three sailors were charged, because of a prejudice they held against another.

On Friday morning at the NCIS head quarters the search for Anthony Dinozzo began in earnest. Gibbs arrived early at the base, an extra cup of coffee in hand. In the office, Ziva and McGee had already started without him, arriving even earlier to begin the hunt. On his desk was another cup of coffee and a bag with two donuts inside. McGee and Ziva munching away on the snack, eyes glued to their computers, no clues as to who brought the breakfast.

Ziva glanced up at the former marine. "I'm on phone records Gibbs, both his personal and work phone show frequent use the past two weeks, up until last Friday. After that he doesn't respond to any calls, office or personal. I'm going to cross reference numbers the week prior until Friday."

"McGee?" The agent had been giving his computer an odd look, obviously puzzled over something on the screen.

"I'm sorry boss, was just checking through my e-mails. I had received one from Tony late Friday night apparently, it was behind all the other messages collected during the weekend."

"What's in the e-mail?" Gibbs came around the desk, reading over the agent's shoulder.

"Well, a list of contacts, people he would get information from to help with the cases apparently, and he just gave them all to me." Timothy said in barely concealed awe, a list of about fifteen names and what sort of cases they were best with. There were several people listed for different military bases. Most of the names were female, some of them even recognizable as girls Tony had dated over the past years, all with good information apparently.

"Sir, Abby Sciuto reporting for duty. Sir." The forensic scientist saluting the former marine.

"Abby, check anything you can on Dinozzo, we are going to need all the help we can get if we want to find him."

"Yes sir." She salutes him again.

"And Abby don't call me sir."

"Yes ma'am." Gibbs chuckled for the first time in a week. The gothic forensic scientist enough to bring anyone out of a deep funk they might have been otherwise been in.

Gibbs sat down at his desk, running a hand over the medals he had won, and reminiscing how Tony had accepted them for him time and time again. The younger man had hero worshipped him the first couple of years he was on Gibbs team, he had stayed the longest on Gibbs' team. He had ignored all the comments about the former marine being a hardass, Tony had always been there to support him, even if he didn't know it. He held up a medal to the light remembering how each time Tony would ask him if he wanted the medals, he would always shake his head. Now that they were his, he was going to find the medal's rightful owner, and his best second-in-command.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The security lines at Dulles International Airport were bustling with the evening rush. As he waited in line to be ushered through security it reminded him of the time he, Ducky, and Gibbs were trying to rush to Air Force One. No more weapons, no more covert operations as an NCIS agent. Once he stepped through the security check point he was Sean Pierce. He made sure to stick to the crowds and go the same speed as everybody around him. Tony ensured that he always had someone between him and any camera. He waited, fingers tapping on the window, for the boarding call. He practically jumped into the line when they called his gate over the intercom.

Tony collapsed into the cramped coach seat. After spending a long agonizing day at the office and then with the headlong rush home to pack up as much as life as he could he was burnt out. He looked around him, not screaming babies in sight, for which he was thankful. He settled back into the seat and tried to look forward to his new life, trying to be excited, as he could no longer look back. For this moment he was safe from his father and all the pain that accompanied Dinozzo senior's presence in Tony's life.

The first time he could remember the abuse was when he was seven years old. His parents were planning on throwing a lavish party that, as a child, he was not allowed to attend. His nanny was supposed to be keeping him quiet and settled, she did for the night before but in the morning young Dinozzo had run outside to play in the rain and subsequently the muddy ground. It had been a good idea until he came running into the foyer leaving muddy shoe prints all over the marble floor as he ran through to the family living quarters tracking mud behind him. His mother had been furious with him, along with his father when they woke up to see a trail of mud leading from the downstairs up. That afternoon little Dinozzo showed up at the hospital with a cracked rib and a sprained ankle, that supposedly happened because he had been running in the mud and slipped onto hard rocks near a creek bed according to his parents. His father had threatened harsher punishment if he spoke a word during the visit.

That became the norm for him growing up, with each incident the hospital received a generous donation which eventually lead to a new wing and quite a bit new equipment, and any doctor or nurse was hushed in anyway necessary.

Tony's morose train of thought was interrupted by the speakers crackling on.

"This is your pilot speaking; we will be taking off in just a moment for London's Heathrow Airport, it will take approximately 7 hours, arriving at about 11am. Please enjoy the late night flight." The overhead speaker was set on a low volume, a hushed murmur in the cabin of the red eye flight to London.

Tony had booked one of the last seats on the plane, leaving him in a middle seat between a middle aged man in a business suit and a blonde woman who had been glancing hungrily at him from the moment she had sat down. The business man however was asleep; his graying hair obviously dyed a dark brown in an attempt to mask his aging. He had a book in hand, automatically holding his last read page, his head resting on the window in a comedic position. The buxom woman on his left grazed his arm with her hand in promiscuous manner her fire engine red nails lightly scratching him as she pretended to be reaching for her seatbelt between them.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, with simulated surprise as the plane took off. She presumptuously grabbed his lower arm, a transparently innocent wide eyed look on her 40 year old face.

"My name's Christina, what's yours?" Christina held out a hand for him, a claw ready to snatch away her next victim.

"Sean." Tony said abruptly, ignoring the proffered hand to reach for his iPod and his very old and well-read bond thriller, he was rereading it for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He had already checked the in-movie flight list and had no desire to torture himself watching 'He's just not that into you' or 'The International'.

"So… Are you visiting family? Going to see a girlfriend?" Christina coyly asked, ignoring the fact that he was in the process of putting on his head phones.

"No." Tony flipped the book open.

"So no No…girlfriend in London then?" She must have been repeating herself because her voice had become slightly strained. Two girls across the aisle started giggling, one was almost cackling in a grating high voice and she was trying to shut up the other, quieter girl.

Mildly annoyed, he responded to the invasive question.

"No. I don't have a girlfriend," She moved to speak; he lifted a finger to stop her and firmly adding. "And I won't cheat on my boyfriend."

"Oh." That shut the blonde woman up. He may have acted as the resident skirt chaser but, it worked in hiding his easygoing sexual preferences. Kate especially, who might have had a problem with the fact that Tony didn't mind kissing another guy, even a transsexual.

The woman backed off, glancing at him curiously though the trip. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, hoping she was not going to start quizzing him on his fabricated boyfriend. After Tony made it clear that he would not be interested in way with her, Christina beside him stopped trying to flirt with him. The touching though could not be helped, she did pull herself in as much as possible but occasionally they were forced to rub elbows. He wished there had still been some first-class seats left when he booked his flight, he would've loved the extra space and the service more than having to squeeze into the tiny seat.

Halfway through the flight he was almost finished with the book. Tony stretched his legs forward, yawning wide he looked around at his seatmates. Christina lay sprawled out, asleep after reading through a Cosmo, blatantly ignoring the uninterested man beside her. The business man was asleep again, book now stowed away in his carry-on. Tony glanced around, hoping to find something amusing. Two girls in the row to his right were arguing quietly. He caught snatches of the conversation, trying to place what they talking about.

"Favorite Bond character …Mine's Q…hate …new Bond." Tony shook his head at the girls, they were talking about James Bond. He kept an ear on the discussion while he tried to relax into the seat. Too bad he wasn't sitting with those girls, at least he would have had something to talk about. Ultimately Tony closed his eyes against the low lighting in the cabin, a short nap before arriving in London.

When the plane touched down on the tarmac half a world away from its starting point Tony was startled awake. The Boeing taxied to the gate, the pilot's announcement drowned out by all the activity created by the passengers hustling to disembark. Tony stored his book in his carry on. He caught a glimpse on his right of the two girls in the next row, the same ones as from before. They were making the most noise; at least it was the smaller one this time, the one who didn't have a high voice that pierced the air like a siren.

At her first chance, the blonde woman, rushed ahead, squirming her way past people. Tony followed the tide of people off the plane, carry-on bag slung over his shoulder. He made his way to the baggage claim area, the conveyor belt for their flight had not yet started; the crowd circled around much like cattle at a watering hole. Tony positioned himself behind the two girls, bickering over who had the heavier bag to carry in that good natured 'we're best friends' kind of way, reminding him of McGee and himself.

"Mark Weatherly and Michael Harmon on AFOSI are together, just look at the subtext." He chuckled to himself, he dropped in on perhaps one of the stranger topics. Tony had watched the show before, even had a short talk about it with the McGeek, the topic of those two of the characters having a relationship never occurred to them. Now that he thought about it though, the characters did display a level of affection and care for each other that was not there between the other characters.

Tony eavesdropped, keeping himself from making any comments about military life and how glamorous they thought it was. Occasionally the smaller girl would glance back at him, and whisper to her friend in the cupped hand routine, obviously talking about him.

A loud beeping sounded, signaling the start of the luggage cycling on the belt.

His overstuffed suitcase came cruising by, he reached between the girls in front of him to grab it, flashing them the patented Tony Dinozzo smile that made puddles of most women. He considered he should probably stop that, he did have a boyfriend, at least so far as anyone here knew. Smiling, he left the airport; this was the start of a new life, even if it wasn't by choice.

Outside, rain poured down from a vicious cloud. He Hailed a taxi cab in the drizzling downpour, a car pulled up with an elderly man inside and a cockney accent asking "Where to mate?"

"A hotel nearby, though not a chain ." Tony said to the cabbie after throwing his suitcase in the trunk.

"Sure thing Yank." The elderly man babbled on, speaking about good local restaurants and the best place to get a proper cup of tea, not that Starbucks hogwash that most Yanks seemed to be addicted to.

The cab driver pulled in front of an older building consistent with the style of all the buildings in the area. An old wooden sign swung above the door, "The Prancing Pony".

"You'll get on good here. Just tell ol' Maggie tha' Eddie sent you."

"Thanks Eddie." the man that was now Sean Pierce quickly grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and ran inside. The inn had a homey lived in feel. An old woman with her gray hair pulled back into a bun and a red glow to her cheeks, the picturesque matron of a small inn, sitting at a desk.

At the opening of the door she looked up, words already flowing out of her mouth. "Welcome!"

"Don't you worry dearie, I'll take good care of you." Tony hardly had time to speak; the matronly woman seemed to speak leaving him no room to cut in. He even thought he heard he mutter "get some meat on those bones", though he had to have misheard her. She introduced herself as Miss Maggie as she checked him in and assigned him a room on the first floor.

"Just let me know if you need anything, alright dearie?" He imagined that she must be what a real grandmother would've been like, caring for her grandchildren and all their friends.

"Thank you Miss Maggie." Tony turned to check out the room, though it was more like an apartment with a kitchenette in one corner and a connected bathroom. Tony settled in, hanging his suits in the closet and arranging what was left in the drawers. The picture that he had taken from his apartment, he placed in the top drawer of his night stand with his laptop, softly tracing the figures in it for a moment before sliding the draw closed. The only reminder he had of a life that had ended before it began.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

On Friday the team relentlessly searched through Tony's records for any information on what might have happened to their loyal coworker. They searched for any leads that could explain his sudden disappearance. Misfortune rained over the case, the two leads that they found lead them to a dead end. One was a purchase on his credit card for a one-way ticket to Hawaii. When Tim called the airport he was told no one had checked in under that name. The other was a call to Tony's office phone that happened the same day he resigned, it came from a burn phone that destroyed any illusions of hope. Sadly, they were left at an impasse. Gibbs dismissed the team early that night citing exhaustion as the main reason.

Monday morning, bright and early, an anxious Jethro Gibbs was walking to his car, cell phone in hand, his new second-in-command dialed. He barked at McGee, "Get over to Tony's place right now."

McGee arrived first, living five minutes away from the apartment. Ziva arrived shortly after him speeding down the road, squealing to a stop, next to McGee, who squeezed himself against his car.

"I'd be more scared if I wasn't used to it." McGee muttered under his breath. The former Mossad assassin scowled at him as she walked around her car to join Gibbs on the sidewalk.

"Come on you two." Gibbs growled out at the bickering agents, marching to the first floor apartment on the corner. The spare key that Tony had given to Ducky in his back pocket. He had given it to medical examiner in case of emergency, reasoning that he was the most responsible person.

When Gibbs reached the door, it was standing slightly ajar, the wood was splintered around the lock making it obvious that it had been forced open. Tim and Ziva fell silent at the sight of the door as they moved to stand behind their team leader with their weapons out. Gibbs, who had pulled his gun at the first sign of danger, glanced at the others as he pushed the door open.

The three of them carefully stepped in, Gibbs signaling for Ziva to investigate the bedroom and the bathroom, McGee trailing him into the kitchen. The team had to step over broken glass from picture frames that had been hanging on the wall or sitting on the table in the living area, the furniture was slashed open and torn haphazardly.

"Clear." McGee shouted, the hand on his weapon steady.

"Clear!" Ziva yelled from the bedroom, a collective sigh going through them all. They holstered their weapons, their eyes scanning the apartment, finally allowing them to absorb the mess.

"What happened here?" Gibbs roared, heading back to the kitchen where it seemed the only unharmed furniture were the chairs, though they had been overturned same as the kitchen table. What might have been a glass bowl was shattered on the floor, shards reaching out towards its brethren in the hall. Many of the cupboards were ripped open, their contents strewn across the floor of the kitchen. The refrigerator door hung askew, barely hanging on to the frame, displaying the spoiled contents inside. Obviously someone had gone through a lot of trouble to destroy everything in the apartment.

All three of them rushed back to their cars to grab the kits in the trunks. Ziva photographed the carnage of the apartment, starting with the kitchen and moving back towards the bedroom. McGee began to dust for prints, planning on using Tony's NCIS file to eliminate most of the prints he was going to collect. Gibbs stalked through the apartment, looking for leads on both where Tony was and who had torn the apartment to shreds.

Gibbs moved from the kitchen after he had looked through everything twice, the cabinets had already been dusted and photographed. He closed the cupboards doors. He righted the table and chairs, moving them to their proper place.

"Tony would never have done this to his apartment." McGee said from the living room, his eyes on the prized entertainment system.

Gibbs stepped out of the kitchen into the adjacent living room. "You've finished dusting?"

"That and more, and all we've found are Tony's prints, I checked them in the database."

McGee kneeled by the system scouring it, trying to find the slightest bit of evidence to give them something to follow. The TV had a giant crack streaking down the middle of the screen, with several other small breaks radiating from the center crack. A small speaker lay in front of the TV, other speakers were resting in the wall, safe from the rampage that had destroyed the rest of the apartment. If Tony were there he would be weeping in agony over the loss of his precious entertainment system, the DVDs thrown about the room. McGee walked around the living room, slowly righting what he could, and picking up the DVDs from where they had been thrown to start a pile on the couch.

A picture frame was hanging askew on the wall, a photo of Tony smiling brightly, practically glowing, the glass cracked in the center as though someone punched it in anger. Gibbs righted the picture, grinning himself at the infectious smile of his agent.

Gibbs turned to the agent. "We will find him McGee."

As he pick up an overturned picture frame two photos slid out and fell onto the floor. Gibbs flipped the picture over, his eyes widening at the captured moment, stunned to see it was of Tony and him together. Their arms around each other, beaming widely not at the camera, towards one another with the sun sinking behind them, without a care in the world. It seemed familiar, but he had never seen it before, the closest thing he could think of was the annual NCIS baseball tournament, Tony and he were on the winning team after Tony caught a ball headed for outfield hit by Tommy from the legal department. Gibbs remembered congratulating Tony, hugging him along with the rest of the team for that glorious catch. He set the frame down, laying the photo on the table at the center, rearranging all the other photos around it to a semblance of order. His eyes wandering back to the photo in the center, hand hovering over the photo, tempted to snatch it for himself. The former marine sighed, pocketing the photo.

Ziva sat on Tony's bed, eyes watering at the mess, even though she would never admit it should anyone ask. The closet had been thrown open, clothes covering the floor, becoming a second carpet. Some of the designer suits Tony had loved were lacerated, knife cuts tearing them apart, irreparable damage to the beautifully sewn pieces.

"Tony I am glad you are not here to see what happened to your belongings." Ziva murmured, fingering a ruined suit jacket sleeve.

"Gibbs." Ziva called, walking out of the bedroom with empty hands. McGee stood up from the corner of the room near the formerly expensive entertainment system.

"So we have nothing." McGee said dejectedly.

"Where would Tony go?" Ziva pointedly said.

"That's not as important as why would Tony go?" They stood together in the trashed apartment of Anthony Dinozzo. One thing for certain among them, they would find their missing teammate.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Tony shifted on the bar stool, drinking an ale from the local pub he found a couple weeks back when he had first arrived in London. He even made a friend of the bartender Robbie Macintosh, the son of the owner. The pub was a few streets down from Mrs. Maggie's place, where the mother hen enjoyed watching over Tony and her few other guests.

Apparently Mrs. Maggie was the good twin of the witch from Hansel and Gretel, her hobbies now included fattening Tony up with her homemade dinners and desserts. Consequently he ran two extra miles to burn off all the extra food she packed into him. He had left Mrs. Maggie's after finishing another monster of a meal that was supper and barely escaped being thrown into the oven as he often joked with her. His handiwork around the inn finished for the day, her husband had passed away several years before. Today Tony had set up the computer for her work, as well as helping her organize the finances for the inn, and fixing the leaky pipe under the sink in her personal kitchen.

Tony caught sight of two bundles of cloth entering the pub. He nearly choked on his drink as one of the bundles of fabric tried to shake itself dry. They were the same girls from the plane that discussed James Bond. Coincidentally they found the same pub soon after he had and the scrawny dark blonde girl quickly remembered him from the plane ride. He soon became friends with them, ruling them out from being under his father's thumb, because either the old man was hiring rather odd and insane people now or the girls were innocent. Either way they provided entertainment and a piece of home, if only a bit more Southern than he was used to.

Tony called for two more beers from the bartender for the girls while he was still on his second drink. McGee and Abby would've cracked up at the two girls he had made friends with in London.

"Sam! Jack!" Robbie called out to them. They frequented the pub often enough for the bartender to remember them.

"Sean!" Sam squealed as she hugged him full force, pecking him on the cheek while Jack watched from the side, rolling her eyes at her animated friend. The enthusiastic girl had a peculiar way of greeting each person, and apparently he was considered 'special' to her, enough to warrant cheek kisses but off limits due to his boyfriend.

The first time he saw them in the bar together, Jack scolding Sam over something, he assumed the two were in a relationship together. He later learned differently. He saw Sam kiss a couple of guys when she was drunk enough and Jack wasn't hovering over her shoulder. Of course Sam getting drunk was an admittedly amusing experience, considering her already spontaneous nature and a learning experience since she was prone to randomly confiding secrets while drunk. Of course the times when Sam decided to get drunk and Jack wasn't around it was up to Tony to care for the lightweight. Was this how it was with sibling, he found he would ask himself caring for the girl. Even though he knew her age, and she was well above the legal age, he couldn't see her as anything other than a little sister, a little girl that he would keep all the guys away from her.

"Already finished with Ireland then?" Robbie the bartender asked as he passed their drinks along, leaning over the bar counter eyeing Jack. She thanked him for the drink, smiling shyly back.

"Yep." Sam began talking fervently, gesturing wildly, spinning a story with her words and movements. Tony listened halfheartedly to her, he hoped he never had to take a statement from her as a witness she talked about everything, and even the least important details were added into the spinning tale.

"Can I buy you drink?" A woman leaned against the bar next to Tony, interrupting Sam and her wild tale, sizing up the young girl sitting on the stool next to him, quickly dismissing any threat Sam could be. She ignored the woman as well, brazenly chuckling in front of the woman, earning a glare from Jack.

"No thank you." Tony said forthrightly. The woman walked away, eyes glancing back to Tony. He waved at the retreating woman.

Tony looked over to the southern girl next to him, swirling the amber liquid in her glass.

Robbie and Jack had leaned closer to each other during the brief exchange, speaking softly to one another. Tony would notice him glance up every few seconds to the door and to the few other patrons, not enough to warrant his full attention on the place, most of the people in the pub that night were regulars, and they seemed engrossed in their own lives for the moment.

"What's your boyfriend like Sean?" Sam looked up at him curiously, eyes twitching to glance hurriedly at Jack before looking back at him. She tapped her fingers on the glass. She had already drilled him over everything else, perhaps this was the only thing left for her curious nature to interrogate him over.

Tony grinned down at her, smiling as though she were his little sister. Too bad he never had a sibling, he could have enjoyed the odd moments. McGee had his little sister, and Tony would never tell him how much he envied the computer geek at the moment. His childhood was never lonely, never spent learning to sit straight and stay quiet while the adults were talking. He always had the constant companion.

"He's a tough guy, a hard nut to crack, dedicated to his work, but he was also determined to keep my by his side, it's just this time it couldn't be helped, I had to move. Before me he actually had three marriages fail, but we've managed to last together for a long time now, going seven years actually."

"Three marriages?" Sam asked quietly, her voice low and stunned, whistling the words out.

Tony shook his head, "three."

She mouthed 'wow', "I hope you don't mind me asking." He shook his head, already used to her uncertain interrogative techniques. "Were they all women before you?"

"Yea, and red heads too."

"But you don't have red hair." She whispered, as if sharing a secret.

"No. This is why he and I are still together." He whispered back to her, sharing one of his secrets to the young woman.

"So what did he look like?" Sam edged closer.

"Salt and pepper hair, these amazing eyes and deep voice, the body of a marine. Quite a bit of muscle and he knows how to use it." Tony winked to her. Chuckling when he realized he'd been describing Gibbs as his boyfriend all along, the boss would be pissed when he found out about what he had just said.

"Sounds cute. Marines do have the best bodies." Sam said dreamily, eyes glazing over.

"Yeah they do." Tony had sneaked the occasional glance whenever he could, and he also had given Gibbs an eyeful once in Cuba along with Kate thanks to the iguana sneaking into his room.

He knew what would have happened by now at NCIS, the team would have a new field agent and quite possibly a permanent agent. The sudden melancholy thoughts brought Tony out of his own daze and he called for another beer, downing it in an instant, draining his mind of Anthony Dinozzo's memories. He was Sean Pierce now; his father couldn't touch him here, not while he wasn't Anthony Dinozzo.

"Sean?" A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his macabre reverie, mind slamming to a halt. He lifted Sam's hand off his shoulder, smiling to the girl, she'd brush off any of his patented Dinozzo smile's. Somehow she could see through any of his patented smiles.

"I'm going to Maggie's, Sam. I'll see you again sometime." Tony stood up, finally noticing the slight sway in the world. It took a moment for it to settle around him, when it did he left the pub, walking the short distance to the inn. He pulled his coat tighter around him, grateful that the rain had stopped for the day, though more was in the forecast tomorrow.

"Good Evening Mrs. Maggie," Tony called to the woman as he entered through the back door, she was sitting at her kitchen table eating a slice of blackberry pie.

"Good night Sean." Tony waved at her as he walked quietly to his room in the inn. Unlocking the door and stepped inside to the dark room. He shucked off his coat, hanging it over the chair.

He walked into the bedroom, eyes drawn to the lone picture on the top of the dresser. A rare photo of Gibbs and him smiling, beaming in the bright sun, glowing from a triumphant win. Tony clutched it to his chest, remembering the burning hot summer day, the way the sweat ran down Gibbs' back while he ran down the court. Of course remembering something that peculiar would usually alarm him, however with the alcohol running through his system it only made the memory more sensual, replacing the otherwise platonic feel of it.

Tony shook his head, clearing away the rampant thoughts of sweaty Gibbs. He fell back onto the bed, bouncing once. Eyes drifting listlessly shut, dreaming of the team and in particular, one tough as nails former marine.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Gibbs chugged back another cup of coffee while he leaned back at the computer, the picture of Tony and him in his hand. It was all he really had left of the agent, the desk was cleared out and his former apartment emptied. The few sentimental items that could be salvaged from Tony's apartment were at Gibbs' house in an unused bedroom. Sometimes he would sit in the room with all the former agent's belongings and casually remove various items from the boxes just to remember his previous second-in-command. It felt like something was missing from the puzzle, that if they had one clue they would know Tony's location.

After the first month of Dinozzo missing, Ziva and Tim picked up the slack, working together to solve every case as quickly as though they had four members. It was obvious the pair missed him, fighting over the mighty mouse stapler Tony had left sitting on Ziva's desk and a stack of magazines that McGee found in his locked drawer. The mouse stapler though moved around the floor until it settled on Gibbs' desk permanently to stop the debacle over Tony's precious stapler.

The team had not been doing well with the replacements either. The first one, an African American male who had hardly been on the team for three days when he left shouting and screaming at Tim and Ziva. Gibbs had just stepped off the elevator in time to catch a glimpse of the man's rage. The young man yelled at Gibbs; earning the ire of the former marine, the glare that Gibbs' shot the retreating man was enough to finally shut him up. After the spectacle he had made Vance came down to speak with Gibbs the next day; he informed him that apparently the young man felt as though the team was too insular and wouldn't allow a stranger inside their family, and that the leader of the team had unattainable high demands and if not met they were reached a person was subject to swift punishment.

Next up was a young animated Latino woman, she lasted a full week before leaving. She was moved from Cyber Crimes following in McGee's footsteps, but his adjustment to the field was swift, hers not so much. She managed to foul three crime scenes and complained to the director about Gibbs. Vance presented her with an ultimatum, work with Gibbs or move back to cybercrimes, her decision was immediate. The next day she showed back to the basement. Later that day Gibbs saw McGee hand over a twenty to David.

The team cycled through many other agents, each one failing in his or her own time. Some replacements left with more spectacle style than others, while many of their replacements cleaned out Tony's desk and left that night, no word to anyone else but the director of their decision. Eventually though the director stopped sending applicants to Gibbs, if only unofficially keeping them a three man team. Officer David had enjoyed the interchanging people though, and voiced dismay at the loss of her new found entertainment, calling the applicants "replacement" and when Tim asked her why, she explained they never lasted long enough for her to know them on a personal level. The nickname soon became the undisputed term for any person sitting at Tony's desk, Abby and Ducky began using the nickname for the new agents too.

Overall the team managed a good facade, but once in a while they would mistakenly forget that their resident movie snob was absent. McGee would try and pick up the slack, hurling out random movie quotes and comparing crime scenes and situations to those random movies he knew, his repertoire was not as extensive though. David once tried to join him but ended up only tossing out a few words that she knew and her comparing movies to crimes consisted of "don't you remember from that one movie, with that guy, I know his name, but it was just like this." After a while they quit trying. They would end up making jokes about Tony whenever they tried quoting movies.

With their former bountiful form of stress relief gone the team suffered. None of the other teams in the department would mention anything but they all fault the change in what had been the best team, the A team. They knew that Gibbs' team was hurting.

Tony's absence hurt Gibbs more than he let on, knowing that his stuff was at his house, occupying space as if they were together somehow. He missed the man, he missed his senior field agent, but most of all he missed Tony. He missed how he used to make him laugh or he would hit the man upside the head for some stupid comment that Tony knew he shouldn't make but still would, some comment that would inwardly make Gibbs smile. Sometimes Gibbs would mistakenly call for Dinozzo at a crime scene, barking out orders robotically, an ingrained habit forcing him to call for his senior agent to sketch the scene. It was only after Ziva or Tim responded sketching the scene that he remembered that his ever faithful senior agent was absent. Gibbs stopped caring that mentally he allowed himself to call him Tony now, the man was not a coworker anymore. Rule 12 didn't matter anymore, if only he could find the Tony and strangle him to death before hugging the damn Italian.

Gibbs rubbed the wrinkled photograph, mirroring the grin he wore on the picture, Tony clapping him on the back, jumping and acting like a silly kid instead of the grown up man he knew him to be. He never figured when taking that picture that Tony would one day leave without warning, Tony was always there, even if he was late he was always there.

Gibbs heard the soft sound of Musad assassin trained footsteps. The memorized moment in time was carefully folded and inserted back into his coat pocket. Ziva was coming back from visiting Abby's lab. The smell of chemicals drifted behind her.

He looked back at his own computer screen, he hadn't changed the page on the screen in over, he checked the tiny clock, an hour.

"Go home and rest you two." Gibbs casually dismissed them, both of them glancing up from their computer screens, the blue glow highlighting them in the low lights of the office at night.

"Boss I haven't finished the search yet." McGee said, sitting down at his computer clicking away on the mouse.

"You're too tired to, get some sleep and report back in the morning." Gibbs shut down his own computer, slipping his gun into the holster at his hip.

McGee and David prepared to leave without another argument, shutting down their own computers, gathering their belongings for the night. The trio walked silently to the elevator together, Gibbs trailing them.

"I'm going to check on Abby," Gibbs offered up when he turned the opposite direction of the other two. They nodded their heads at him lethargically, keys jangling in hands.

Gibbs slipped into the gothic scientist's lab, the pungent odor of chemicals assaulting his nose as he opened the door. A strange mixture Abby swore would reveal the serials off several guns they found in a shed behind a vacant house.

He immediately spotted his target. Abby was sitting on the stool, head cradled in her hands and eyes closed. Her black hair held back by a flimsy elastic pooled over white sterile lab coat. He tapped her on the back, softly whispering her name to her. She stirred slightly, moving her head further into the cradle of her arms. He shook his head at her, rubbing her shoulders hard. She lifted an arm, swatting away at some intruder, mumbling for whoever it was to go away. He caught a glance of her face; what had once been a scene of gothic pride was now the bare minimum, if she were wearing make-up at all, Gibbs was no expert on the feminine products for beauty.

The computer pinged, its screen brightening, startling the napping young woman. It was another facial recognition search through the airport, again reporting negative.

"Not again." Abby turned to Gibbs, eyes and mouth downcast. "I know I can find him." She mumbled tiredly to the former marine, moving to rest her head on his chest. Gibbs knew of these frequent searches, knew she was going through the evidence from Tony's case whenever she caught the time; even the director knew, he simply turned a blind eye on the search, so long as it didn't interfere with cases.

"It's time to go to bed now Abby."

"One more search, I know there is something I am missing, some small piece and I'll find him. I'll crack this thing wide open and Tony will be back with us again." Abby tried to stand from her stool, tried to look confident instead of the slumped over definition of tired. Her body sagged forever and she leaned on the edge of her lab table.

"Go to sleep Abby."

"I on't wanna." She mumbled to the ground. He lifted the petite woman in his arms, carrying her to the back lab room where a cot had become a permanent fixture. The young woman yielded in his strong grip, relaxing into him as he deposited her on the mattress.

"Sleep well Abby." He kissed her on the forehead, whispering "You'll find him for me Abbs, I know you will."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Tony Dinozzo closed his laptop and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. After months in England he was finally going home, well at least back to the good ol' US of A. Most likely Dinozzo Sr had lost interest after losing his only son again. He could return to the states once more, lingering under the protection of his assumed name. He sealed the deal with a school district in Los Angeles as a new PE teacher and basketball at a high school.

It was a logical choice and it was first time he would use his degree as a teacher. Potentially it could be enough to confuse his father's investigators for the next couple of years. The one thing he wanted to do though was return home to his NCIS team and Gibbs. He debated everyday about leaving England and returning to NCIS; apologizing and telling them why he ran away, why he couldn't face this problem head on. He couldn't do it though; he would've already been replaced. His skills were rusting and an NCIS agent needed to stay on top of their game. Vance might accept him back conditionally but he probably wouldn't be placed on the same team anyway. Even if he did go back, it wouldn't be the same. Everyone would want to know why he disappeared, they would know that he was weak, that his father still had control of him and held power over him. No going back was not an option. Going back to NCIS meant facing Gibbs and the look of disappointment he endure for not coming clean, for not facing this thing head on. Tim, Ziva, Abby, and Ducky, they were family and they probably missed him but he couldn't allow his father the chance to hurt one of them. He had to soldier on. There was nothing he could return to.

His cell phone rang in the quiet apartment. He checked himself mentally before answering the phone, "This is Sean Pierce."

"Heya Sean. How ya doin'?" Sam said on the other end of the line, the southern girl's accent a welcome change. He hadn't heard from her in awhile. She left for the states a few months back, but not without giving him her e-mail address.

"I'm doing good Sam. When did you get back in town?" Tony could openly admit that he had grown fond of the girl. He had never had a little sister before and enjoyed hearing from her.

"This morning actually. Anyway, would you wanna go see Buckingham Palace tomorrow? With me that is."

"I thought that Jack and you were going there sometime together?"

"Well, she went with Robbie to see his family, and he promised to take her out sometime to see it together. But she promised to take me to find a blue police box."

"Alright, we can go together Sam." Tony sighed exasperated. Well at least it gave him a chance for goodbye.

"Great! I'll see you tomorrow around ten at Mrs. Maggie's place?" Sam exclaimed in delight, he could almost hear the grin over the phone.

"Sure Sam. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks!" Tony hung up his phone, shaking his head.

He had never told McGee, but he envied the geek when he found out about his sister. Tony had always wanted a sibling, a brother or sister, it didn't matter to him. He wanted someone to play with, someone who he had a blood connection with, his own family. He knew he missed out on all the joys of being an older brother. He heard his friends talk about it all the time, how they hated their little brother or sister but still loved them anyway. Too bad his parents only wanted one. At least he wasn't trying to protect someone else from the horrors of his family then.

"Sean?" Mrs. Maggie called, gently knocking on the door.

Tony opened the door, "Yes Mrs. Maggie?"

The elderly woman stood in the doorway holding a plate with a slice of freshly made pie and ice cream; a spoon dangling on the edge. "I thought you might want some homemade blueberry pie Sean."

Mrs. Maggie moved into Tony's room, sitting down at the desk, smiling wide, her eyes sparkling. He could sense the juicy gossip already. Whatever the news it was obviously blueberry pie material; it must be good. She loved to join him in the evening, a plate of something delicious in hand and a story for him, sometimes it a tale from her own life and other times she would regale him with juicy news of the neighborhood spun to sound like a soap opera.

"Thank you for the pie Mrs. Maggie. Now what news do you have for me?" He sat across from her, digging eagerly into the slice of pie and ice cream, savoring each tart bite.

"Did you hear about Jack and Robbie?" The elderly woman leaned forward, eyes sparkling, gossip on the tip of her tongue.

He shook his head, mouth too full of pie and ice cream. He had known the two were close. While his investigator skills were a little rusty, his curiosity remained insatiable.

"Well I heard from Bethy, Robbie's mother, you remember her from Christmas right?" Tony nodded, he'd been invited to spend Christmas Day with a whole mob of people all clamoring to fit into one small house.

"Well he has his mother's engagement ring and is planning to propose to Jack tonight!" Maggie said.

"I remember when Markus proposed to me," She wistfully said looking off to the side, starring at nothing. Tony had heard many of her stories numerous times but known told so frequently as the day she met Markus which then connected to the story of them getting married, she couldn't tell one story without the other. Maggie was a comely young woman during World War 2 when she met a daring handsome pilot. Tragically his plane had been shot down but somehow he had survived and managed to make it to a hospital. Maggie was a nurse and she loved hearing the stories from valiant pilots and heroic men but this one pilot caught her eye. She talked to him every day she worked. Until one day when he wasn't in his room. She was appalled to learn he had been released from the hospital. Later on that day though, that same brave, daring, and handsome pilot brought her flowers, well flowers that he could scavenge up from the countryside. At the end of the war, Markus dropped down on one knee in an airplane.

Tony shifted in his chair; he knew the next question to come, it happened at least once when she visited him in his rooms.

"Sean, how's your boyfriend again?" The grandmother of five asked.

"I haven't spoken to him in awhile Mrs. Maggie. He's doing well most likely though." If only he could actually know how everyone was doing, how Gibbs was doing. He'd give anything to hear from his former team.

"You'll need to bring him by someday," She said, noticing the empty plate before Tony. "You're just like Markus, Sean, he could put away a whole slice of pie after dinner every day."

"Thank you Mrs. Maggie." She picked up the plate, hugging him around the shoulders affectionately.

"You're welcome Sean, now get some rest tonight, no need to stay up on that computer of yours."

Mrs. Maggie left the room, the smell of pie with her. Tony poked at his stomach, hearing the answering grumble of appreciation from his digestive system. He hadn't known there were that many varieties of pie until he met Mrs. Maggie who gave out pies as though they were handshakes. Her children, two boys and one girl, all married, they could not leave the house without a pie in hand and the feeling of love in their hearts. One of her children, Michael, if he remembered correctly was married to another man, and when he came out to the family years ago, everyone, father included, accepted him with open arms, the way Tony imagined any loving family would do. The way he wished his family was. No one in the Dinozzo family knew of his liberal sexuality. While Tony did not recognize himself officially and attend all the family functions, he knew that if he ever announced himself to the family, there'd be crosshairs aiming for him.

Tony glanced at the glowing red numbers, it was nearing ten o'clock. He decided to skip out on the pub tonight; instead he would book his plane ticket for Los Angeles, California. He checked over flights for the next several days to Los Angeles, wavering between several different flights. The district didn't require him to be in town for a couple of months, enough time for him to find an apartment and situate himself. In the end he booked a flight for the day after next, reserving a room at a motel along with it.

The next morning he awoke to the smell of a home cooked breakfast. He smiled to himself; Mrs. Maggie was a grandmother just wanting someone to stay at home with her and to be loved. He certainly had grown used to the fresh breakfast every morning when he woke up. He already knew that he would miss her once he was back in the states.

The last day he spent in England was in Sam's company. The two spent the day sightseeing around the country. They saw Buckingham and Sam was the requisite obnoxious tourist with the beefeaters, Tony pretended he didn't know her. They rented a car and drove out to see some cliffs until she kept making fun of them for being tiny and Tony threatened to have her see how tiny the cliffs were up close and personal and throw her over them. They settled out near Wales to watch the sunset.

He leaned forward. "I'm leaving tomorrow Sam."

Tony was expecting shock, or something similar to that. The younger woman only stared at him, head tilted to the side.

"I had a feeling something was up." Sam pushed her hair out of her face. "You were on edge most of the day; when you're usually one of those relaxed and laid back type of guys Sean."

Tony chuckled. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, it's just that you've been on edge today. You're still relaxed though but not in the same way as usual. I'm… I'm babbling." She blushed, lowering her head, hair falling forward to obscure her face.

Tony leaned over, touching her arm sympathetically. "I'll miss you Sam."

"Thanks Sean," Sam lifted her head up, the eyes sparkling, trouble on the horizon, "Does this mean you're going to see" she leaned closer, eyes darting everywhere, "him?"

He almost slapped her upside the side, sometimes her mind proved to be one track.

"I wish. He lives on the east coast and I'm going to the west." Tony let go of her arm. The sparkle in her eyes dying as he spoke.

"Well…you'll see him sometime."

"I hope so," Tony looked towards the setting sun, "I certainly do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that might not know PE stands for Physical Education. It's where the kids go to be physical and run, play games in elementary school. Something to get the kids active.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs hardly felt special going to work this morning.

_Gibbs pulled tight at the strings of the red and gold bow on top of Tony's Christmas present. For this year's gift exchange Abby had insisted that presents be brought for the entire team, including one for their errant friend. Her lab was decorated in bright festive colors, matching the spirit of the holidays. The atmosphere was complete with a miniature Christmas Tree and tiny lights that circled the branches and matching little ornaments and pictures of the team. He set the present on the top of all the others in a box, one for each person he considered close; although the person he had considered to be his closest friend for the past few years was now nowhere to be found._

_He drove to NCIS, leaving his car with two boxes in his arms. One box filled with wooden toys to be donated for young children in need of them throughout the DC area. He stopped inside the building, a man in a Santa Claus suit waving to people as they passed by. A small bag at his feet with a large cardboard sign next to it 'Presents for underprivileged children'. Gibbs dropped one of the boxes next to Santa's sack which was already overflowing. "Merry Christmas to you too," Santa said joyfully, his manner appropriately jolly in the military facility. Although, he noticed, there Santa had lost some weight since last year and apparently was working out. Were they getting creative in the assignments for probies again? Gibbs nodded, the corner of his lips cracking upwards._

" _Gibbs!" Abby yelled once he arrived at her lab. She appeared costumed in the latest gothic elf fashions; an outfit she would insist to the director was uniform for holiday parties. So in place of her usual black ensemble, she wore bright red trimmed in white and black. She grinned at him infectiously; his smile that had threatened to appear earlier had weaseled its way forward, compelling him to join in on the spirit of the season._

_The stern marine handed his bag forward, careful of the contents. Abby peered inside and jumped at the sight of the red, green, and gold wrapped packages, their bows carefully maintained by such a gruff marine. A sticker at the top had her name in black ink, "Oh I can't wait to see what it is."_

_The forensic scientist gladly accepted the bag from him, walking over to the Christmas Tree. She gently took each present out of the bag, laying them under and around the small tree. The lights on the miniature Christmas tree in her office blinked red, blue, purple, white, and gold, striking rainbows on the wrapping paper. Gifts from Ziva and Tim were already situated in the nest of holiday spirit and gift giving under the tree. The last gift she took from the box, one uniquely wrapped in the last of the wrapping paper he had bought with Shannon, a collage of reindeer, snowmen, and elves playing in the snow; he didn't need to see the tag to remember who that present was for. It was placed with others in the middle of the tree, surrounded by metallic wrapping paper, its simplicity standing out. His demeanor immediately saddened, his smile fading away, the scowl returning._

The miniature Christmas tree still stood tall in the corner of her office. A small group of presents huddled under the tree, waiting for Tony to come home and claim it. Off to the side of the tree, was another group of presents clustered together, 'happy birthday' wrapping paper covering each one. He had a year's worth of presents waiting for him and the last time Gibbs had seen the inside of the freezer there was a piece of cake waiting for Tony too.

The computer beeped, startling the woman. She groaned, lifting up her head lazily to see the cause for the sudden commotion.

"Abbs?" Gibbs stepped back, eyes going to the TV screen set up in her lab, scenes from an airport being displayed in fast forward.

She cursed under her breath, eyes on the computer screen. "NO. No. no."

One of the faces on the screen was highlighted while all the others went about their business. He knew this scene, memorized the path, each footstep and each glance that the agent took. Anthony Dinozzo went to the airport that night; at some point though, he disappeared. The security tapes show him entering one of the restrooms before the security checkpoint, only no Anthony Dinozzo left the restroom. The team had studied each person leaving the restroom in a thirty minute window. McGee had left to pull the schematics for the airport, analyzing the washroom, scrutinizing every possible exit. They were still dead in the water. The former NCIS agent used all of the tricks Gibbs had ever taught him, and he used them well; if he were here he would've been saying 'The student has become the master'. He had completely disappeared off the radar. Gibbs couldn't have been more proud of him, except for the fact that Tony left his team behind.

"We already knew that Abby." This was umpteenth time that she ran the facial recognition software through the security videos; Gibbs stopped caring that she kept at it, and Ducky had stopped telling her that this is the definition of insane. She wouldn't listen; she kept her normal speed going through the evidence for the team's cases at her record pace as usual while investigating into her friend's disappearance.

Gibbs cell phone rang in the lab. "Gibbs."

"We have found out who Lt. Alex Bell had been calling."

"Well?"

"It was a Ms. Tammy Watson." Ziva's voice drifted on the phone, prattling on about previously unnamed girlfriend.

_Officer Ziva David contemplated tossing another paper ball at the newest replacement for Anthony Dinozzo. The girl in the chair was filing her nails, little white dust sprinkling his desk; she kept gazing in McGee's direction in an annoyingly dreamy way. This new attempt at filling the missing member of the four man team was not working for her in the least, maybe including Gibbs if his darkening scowl was any indication._

" _Hernandez." Gibbs startled the Latino._

_This morning their crime scene came with cans of paint littering the floor, their lids barely cracked open, waiting for the painter. One tub of red paint rested near the pool of blood and the body, Ducky kneeling next to it with his thermometer checking the liver temperature. Somehow or another, Ziva suspected it was this dreamy gaze of hers, Hernandez kicked the paint cans, and watched in slow motion and mild terror as paint splashed the body, Ducky, and mixed in with the pool of blood._

_At the end, when the wave of red had settled and Hernandez had twisted around, barely a drop of paint on her, she extended both arms in the air. "It wasn't my fault Gibbs."_

" _Explain then how Ducky managed to get paint all over himself and on the body."_

" _Well…I accidentally kicked the paint because I was talking to McGee about the newest expansion to World of Warcraft."She hurriedly said, shoulders hunching in, body crumbling into itself under Gibbs' gaze._

" _So then it's McGee's fault. Because you were too busy talking to him and he's to blame for you not watching where you were going?"_

" _No, that's not it either…" Hernandezs scratched at her hair, "It's no one's fault really then, Truly." Ducky began a soliloquy on paint and blame and something to do with Egypt but Ziva had tuned him out, photographing the scene._

_Back at the NCIS headquarters after the disastrous crime scene agents Mcgee and David were curious to find the probie trailing them to the bullpen. Gibbs noticed to, his eyes narrowed._

" _Help Ducky clean the body." He gritted through his teeth._

_The woman in pumps clambered to the elevator, dashing away from the bullpen and Gibbs' wrath. There were sniffles coming from her as she retreated. Ziva and Tim stayed quiet during the argument, watching with rampant interest, and a bet running on whether or not Gibbs would make her cry. Tim pulled out his wallet holding a loft a twenty, Ziva smirking in delight._

" _Always bet on Gibbs."_

Ziva scratched at the red paint on her backpack, nearly a year later and the paint still refused to come off. Paint cans were noted now at various crime scenes, Ducky carefully stepped around each disaster that was waiting to happen. She hadn't let Tim forget about the dreamy looks that Hernandez gazed at him with, teasing him relentlessly whenever the chance came. Oh if only she had someone else to share her joy with. If he only Tony were here. Her musings were cut short from the rapid typing across from her.

" _You know this reminds me of the movie speed, they keep replaying the same small part to the terrorists and it fools …" McGregor stopped talking when he realized the team was staring at him, not in the ' oh yeah that's right way' but the 'why the hell are you saying that'. Gibbs, who McGregor was certain would have appreciated the reference in a comical nontechnical way was now glaring him down, and if the marine was anything like his old boss than he would've been head slapped by now. Nothing was coming; in fact the team treated him eerily, avoiding contact with him, barely acknowledging that he existed._

_He went to speak to Director Vance, who was in charge of his transfer, he'd been offered this job, told that it was a promotion; it sure didn't feel like it. He was an outsider and he was being shunned, he knew the feeling. His former team had fallen apart at the death of their boss, an old army man. He asked for a transfer, immediately._

Agent McGregor had cleared from the desk that morning, after a week of what McGee could tell was the man joking around, he left. He knew when he wasn't wanted and McGee was thankful that they were sent a smart agent for once.

He gazed across at the vacant desk, a mighty mouse stapler, that Gibbs had finally relinquished, the only adornment on the surface, a stack of magazines he knew that were in the drawer. Would their owner ever come back for them?

 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Tony could not suppress his inner investigator who insisted on inserting himself into Tony's subconcious. He knew it was his gut feeling, his inner Gibbs, however his gut was not as accurate as the other's infamous gut. So he ignored it and pushed it aside while living in Los Angeles. It didn't matter that whenever he saw the same man at the basketball games taking pictures, his gut forced him to do a double take which he did but squashed any and all feelings of discomfort and discontent.

The team was practicing before their game against another high school, Tony stood to the side, instructing the team, or the one man machine Michael Jenkins, who was one of the better forwards on the high school basketball team he coached. A veritable Kobe Bryant in the making. Tony clapped the grinning boy on the shoulders, telling him about the possibilities of passing the ball to another player, and pointing out to the other players their best options for stopping someone before the player could score.

He stepped off the court, rolling his shoulders back, rubbing at a crick in his neck. The crick had been there since leaving London and becoming the assistant coach at the Los Angeles High School, a simple job, and an enjoyable one, teaching young men how to play sports together as a team.

He had arrived in Los Angeles in early June, immediately starting a search for an apartment while trying to work off the extra weight from Mrs. Maggie's cooking. He briefly stayed in a motel that needed more than a little elbow grease. A few days into the search he came across an apartment complex close to the school, a running track circling the complex, along with a swimming pool, a fitness room, and reasonably priced for an apartment in Los Angeles, one bedroom apartment with a similar layout to the one he had rented while he lived in DC for seven years. He had to buy a few basic necessities for his new apartment, including some simple furniture from a clearance outlet and a coffee maker. For transportation he purchased a new motorcycle, a car would have to wait until he knew his father was finished searching for him at the moment. A gun range outside the city kept him occupied on the days when he found himself longing for the dangers and head slaps of NCIS. It became his favorite hobby, though he dropped it in London, the weight of the gun in his hand felt familiar to handle and soon he was marking the targets keenly.

Tony kept up the boyfriend act, although he could've dropped it the moment he saw who one of his neighbors was. Veronica, a bombshell brunette with the attitude of a late night diner waitress, and with the smarts to sharpen it. His other neighbor though, Paul Gianni, a middle aged man with a strange penchant for privacy and who had greeted him oddly, by immediately asking if he had 'special someone', was the reason his secret boyfriend act was continued.

On one occasion, while getting to know the rest of the athletic faculty, his new team, and man it felt going to be on a team again, knowing someone out there had his six even though it wasn't with a gun. The head coach, Dylan Watters, had invited him over to his house for a backyard barbecue. Some coaches from other schools were in attendance, in particular one female, Marilyn, who Dylan's wife, Amanda, had introduced to him, nearly shoving the two together in an obvious matchmaking attempt. The other coach was pleasant enough to talk with, long cascading blonde hair pulled back into a low pony tail, and a low cut v-neck shirt that would've had NCIS Tony stuck next to her side with a date and phone number in five minutes. He didn't know why exactly but he didn't want her. It just felt wrong trying to go after another person when he felt like he really had someone special on the East Coast, someone who would slap him upside the head for a stupid remark and never really voiced his approval, but Tony could feel it every time Gibbs gazed in his direction longer than necessary, his head nodding in Gibbs own display of approval. Man he missed his NCIS family. What harm could him flirting with her do, nothing would come of it; but no matter what his Tony charm would not turn on. He sputtered and muttered, trying in vain to diminish the feeling of awkwardness that he felt started when he opened his mouth. He really was out of the game, he was becoming a McGee. He politely excused himself from her side for a moment, catching Amanda, discreetly in the kitchen.

"So what do you think of Marilyn?"

"I'm already with someone Amanda, and I don't think he would appreciate me flirting with someone else while we can't be together." He emphasized the He. The wife blushed, apologizing, saying she didn't know and that she had been trying to set Marilyn up with someone for three years now.

So when a few weeks before Christmas the coach asked about his plans for the holidays he told him of his lack of plans. Amanda demanded that he join them on Christmas, and when he arrived she told him that no one should spend Christmas alone.

Tony scratched mindfully at his facial hair, an old fashioned mustache, same style as the one Gibbs had worn when he was recovering from his amnesia a few years back.

"Coaches we're going to start the game soon." The referee called out.

"Bower" Tony called out to him, hands out waiting for the ball. Simon Bower, the son of a navy rear admiral, passed the ball to the coach. Most of the students attending the high school were navy brats. Somehow leaving NCIS, going to London, and then coming to Los Angeles Tony found himself amidst the military again.

The two teams walked to their respective benches on the sidelines after warming up before the game, each person grabbing their water bottle for a quick gulp before the game actually started. The head coaches huddled up their boy, their pep talks prepared.

Parents filled the gymnasium at the high school; bleachers had been pulled out from against the walls to accommodate the small crowd of spectators. The games were usually attended by the parents, the girlfriends and friends of the players. Some other students would join them although the JV team did not have the impact on the school as the varsity team did. A few of the parents, mainly fathers would nod towards Tony, and the assistant coach would nod back to them in greeting. Several of them had sons that had played on the football team Tony had also coached.

The teams separated from the huddle and pep talk, five players from each high school walking onto the court, the rest of them sitting down on the bench. Their shoes squeaking on the polished floor, a player from each side coming forward to the center where a referee stood with a ball in his hand, whistle in his mouth. He glanced at both sides, nods from the players. The whistle was blown, ball thrown in the air, the game began, the player from the other high school striking the ball down, swiftly gaining the advantage.

Tony cheered the boys on, shouting and encouraging them from the sidelines. His attention was on the uneven game, the school they were playing against is the state champion for three years in a row. The boys from LAHS put up a good fight, intercepting throws, and keeping up a good defense. Their scores steadily climbed on the board, but the difference in skill was highlighted there, especially at half time. The school twenty-four points behind the reigning state champion, Coach Watters cheered the boys up, pointing out areas that could be better defended and players that needed to be blocked more.

Tony took a moment to gaze around the gym, waving at some of the parents and a few of the girls who he noticed had developed a teenage crush on him. He kept his distance from his students, waving to them all indiscriminately. The whistle blew signaling half time ended and he had to focus his attention back on the game. However something tugged at the back of his mind, his gut forcing his to pay attention to it for once. He glanced around the room again, his inner investigator on high alert. He noticed a man in the back of the gym holding a camera with an extended lens tapping his finger on the button, triggering what Tony knew to be several action sequence shots. He was standing next to a few students, some of whom he knew to be on the news committee at the high school. Tony had never seen him before and the people from the school ignored him, walking around him and never spoke a word to him. It wasn't like he was a ghost but Tony's inner investigator was telling him that man was not a parent. He was not connected to the school, so why was he here? Tony kept an eye on the suspicious character in the back for the remainder of the game. His students under his care and protection, a trained NCIS agent would be hard to fool.

At the end of the game, the score was substantially closer, thanks to several three point shots from Michael Jenkins, who still needed to learn to pass the ball to his teammates, they missed several opportunities to score because of him; the other team knew he was the Kobe Bryant of the team. Even with the loss at 97-89, the Los Angeles Vikings hung their heads in defeat. They were the closest to defeating the other high school.

Tony slapped his team on the back, noting to himself that he would speak with Jenkins later. A parent came to talk with him, looking beyond the parent to the gym doors where the man with the camera had been standing for last half of the game. However he wasn't there, the departing flood of people could have blocked his view of him but he had a sinking feeling in his less than accurate gut that this guy was not safe, something was off about his and would do what it took to protect his students. He squashed his feelings again, he wasn't an investigator. He didn't have the resources to even try and find the guy. His abandoned his thoughts trailing on after the guy and focused on the parents who demanded to know why their son could not play in the game.

If only he could deal with some of these demanding parents with a trip to the interrogation room with Gibbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't play basketball. This is either info from Wikipedia or from my basic knowledge of it. Now again this is unbeta'd so if you see and mistakes than let me know and I'll get right on it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this will involve some gritty parts, some mildly disturbing imagery. Just a tiny warning. And this chapter won't go overly into detail on the crimes though.

Chapter 10

Abby Sciuto was the famed forensic scientist of NCIS, one of their many wizards of tech, someone people might call her a miracle worker. She was rarely bewildered or perplexed by the constantly evolving realm of cyber space and technology. Her skills progressed alongside the developments in technology, staying at the head of the game alongside with the devious criminals she assisted in capturing. Sometimes though she faced a case where she found herself wishing for a miracle, something to rip the case wide open. She was scowling at her computer hoping for one of those miracles.

Right then she would have given anything for a miracle, but she really wanted two. One for the case, and the other for a personal case, for a missing agent.

Tony Dinozzo had been missing for over a year and a half now. Most of the other agents had grown used to the quitter atmosphere in the main area of NCIS. She didn't. There were presents waiting for him in the corner, two years worth of Christmas and birthday presents. No one had said anything when she had included him by buying him presents in the Christmas gathering the past holiday season, no one had the heart to; everyone else had also bought him something. They all missed him just the same.

They were a distraction, a persistent presence looming over her, pointing out that he was still elsewhere, somewhere, no one knew; no one had found him yet. She hadn't found him yet.

She had tried at first hiding the presents, forcing him out of her mind, working harder than ever on the cases, even pulling a few cold cases out. Nothing helped. She found herself holding a present, and reflecting over old times and crazy memories whenever she had one of her infrequent spots of downtime. So the presents stayed out, as a constant reminder that Tony was coming back; he had to, if only because there were Christmas and birthday presents waiting for him.

Today though she didn't have the time to muse over him.

Eric Beal from the NCIS office in Los Angeles had sent her a file containing classified information on an ongoing investigation they were struggling to solve. The file was small as their information was limited. The killer was making few mistakes, nothing consequential enough to lead to an arrest. Someone in the Los Angeles area was targeting young boys, the sons of Navy officers and a few Marine Corps officers too. The boys were found in their school parking lot inside their own cars, raped and murdered. Cuts covered the young bodies, crisscrossing over young skin, dried rivers of red running over the marred skin. The case was delivered to her that morning after the team in Los Angeles kept running up with nothing, they had sent it to her in a desperate hope that she could crack it open or at the least figure out what happened and why, and more importantly who was doing this or maybe narrow down their search.

This time though the killer taunted the team, sending a photograph of a group of boys running outside on a track at a high school in Los Angeles, challenging the investigators. Facial recognition software had been run on all of the boys and it turned out that seven of them were sons of Navy officers.

In the photograph the boys were talking together, joking around, playing, some of them had the utmost concentration of keeping, acting like a group of high schoolers. This could have passed for something from a school's newspaper. None of them were looking directly at the camera. Either they didn't notice the camera, it could have been that the person taking the picture was someone familiar and they were used to that person snapping pictures of them. None of this helped though. Not one single boy was the focus of the shot, if anything the killer was only highlighting the potential location for his next victim.

"Abby. Have you finished the ballistics on the Smith case? We need to know if Wesson's gun fired the shot." Tim walked into her lab with Ziva and stood behind the scientist.

"Not yet McGee," She turned to him, "Beal just sent me information on the serial murders in Los Angeles."

"Is that the one about the young boys?" Ziva piped up, glancing between the two tech geeks. Her assassin skills put to good use. If anyone could spot the target of the photograph she could.

"Yeah, well the killer is getting cocky. He sent it in this morning to NCIS." She nodded up to the picture on the computer monitor. "Seven of these boys are children of a Navy officer and none of them are missing right now. And the last I heard they are all being watched."

"This is a high school right?" McGee asked, seeing HS on the boys and the rather large building in the background along with a parking lot sparsely populated by some cars and trucks, the closest vehicle was an old powder blue ford, and she couldn't see the license plate. Right behind it though was a classic Harley that certainly had her mildly impressed. Abby nodded.

"Well has anyone thought of asking the coach if he had seen anything weird lately?" McGee asked, referencing the only adult in the picture.

"Well Beal told me that Kensi was going to go undercover there. But they…" Abby trailed off, her eyes gazing over the face. The face of the only adult, an adult male who was possibly in his mid 30's pushing and maybe early 40's. He had light brown hair and a goatee and mustache there was something there though. It felt like one of those moments when she recognized someone and their name was on tip of her tongue but she could not remember it. The man in this picture was familiar, somehow. She knew him from somewhere.

"Abby what's –" He started to ask only Abby shushed him. It didn't take much to figure out what drew her attention, she was staring at the man on the screen. Ziva took a step closer, eyeing him as well.

There was definitely something there. The three of them standing motionless and quiet, looking at him, trying to recall him, feeling as though his identity was on the tip of their tongues, one more hint, one clue and they would know.

Abby zoomed in on the man's face, considering if he was a friend or a foe. She made a move to reach over for a caf pow and sipped through the straw belatedly realizing when nothing was pouring through that she had finished it going through the other evidence. Where was her caffeine supplier when she needed him.

Of course she did have someone who could fetch him right now while she started the facial recognition software.

"Get Gibbs"

"What?"

"Huh?"

The two agents surprised at the sudden sound.

"Get Gibbs!" Abby yelled at Tim without looking back to see if he would follow her orders. Her hands began to dance across the keyboard and working the mouse to pull up the facial recognition software. She narrowed the parameters of the search, limiting it to NCIS agents, including past agents, specifically watching for one name.

Tim left in a rush, taking the stairs two at a time, scared, knowing the forensic scientist could kill her without leaving any evidence.

The agent stared at her in confusion, following her movements on the large television screen set up in the front of the lab.

"Why am I needed?" Gibbs strutted into the lab, the desperately needed concentrated power of the caf-pow in hand. Three others followed in behind him, Ducky, Tim, and Director Vance, none of them knew what was going on or why their mad, only in the good way, forensic scientist was making demands.

The computer dinged. A hush fell over the room, everyone watching with baited breath and unanimous hope. The lines springing from one side of the computer screen to the other moving slower than ever it seemed like, but it matched the face beyond any doubt to one Anthony Dinozzo, former NCIS Special Agent.

A hairpin could have been dropped in that room and it would sound like a megaphone. An explosion could have happened and it would not have shattered the moment. The missing agent had been found. Finally.

"Well it's about time." Director Vance broke the silence, shattering the momentary pause that had taken hold of each of them.

Everyone in the room glanced back to him. What could he do to stop them from finding their missing friend and partner. If he could he would join in on the search as well. They knew where Agent Dinozzo was now, there was nothing stopping them, nothing but him, the director. If he didn't do something then four, maybe five of his best would call for personal vacations tomorrow and maybe the week after.

"I've assigned your team to a case of Serial rapes and murders in the Los Angeles area. You will assist in the search and arrest and capture of the suspect," Smiles lit up on everyone's faces, Abby mildly concerned. "Ms. Sciuto, you will stay here along with Dr. Mallard, you're needed for other cases."

He took one look at the myriad of faces facing him in an array of emotions from excited disappointment from Abby to stubborn as earth, the second b stands for bastard look from Gibbs. "Solve the case first."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The need to investigate and bust a criminal was becoming worse each time he heard news about another boy raped and murdered and left to be found in his car. Of course that led to strange questions of what if the boy didn't have a car, but he ignored those asinine questions, because really in the grand scheme of things that didn't matter, and his nagging gut was increasingly making itself known whenever he saw the strange man at the basketball games or when he heard the news. Even if there was a connection he was not about to become a vigilante, roaming the streets on his motorcycle looking for trouble. Besides He never had a hard time finding trouble anyway; it seemed to look for him instead.

The final school bell rang and he stood to the side of the hallway, a crowd of boys and girls rushing past him for the bus or their car, and some finding niches to chat with friends while they waited for their various practices to begin. He caught the soft brown eyes of the new substitute teacher, Andrea Summers who he remembered preferred Andy, she had volunteered to help coach the girls' soccer team while another coach was taking her maternity leave.

"How were the kids today Andy? Any better than yesterday?" He sauntered over, his Dinozzo charm returning in bits and pieces, besides with the faculty thinking he was batting for the other team he had learned a lot about women, certainly adding material to his vault of charm.

"Well it couldn't have been any worse. I still haven't figured out how to get them to stop making out in the back. I've already threatened them with detention."

"Just takes a firm hand, and sometimes a smile helps."

She nodded, hardly paying attention to him; Tony took that as his cue to leave, waving goodbye when the halls were near empty and the few students who had practice were scampering off.

So his charm still needed work, or it could've been the rumor mill telling her that he was a waste of time in the romance department, whatever it was that kept his luck down with the ladies he waved it off. There was no use in chasing a romantic partner when the last time he had taken a lady out to dinner she started confessing about her hatred for men and wishing him good luck in his wonderful relationship committed to a man. So finding potential partners in the school was a resounding no.

"Sean!" He heard a feminine voice shout behind him. He turned around, lifting his megawatt Dinozzo smile.

"I wanted to ask you if you've seen anything weird." Well that was weird itself, almost like a lousy investigator trying to weasel information out of him, he promptly told his gut again to shut it. He paused his mental tirade, realizing she was still talking. "I'm so worried about the boys here, I've already had several parents ask about their daughters, of course the news hasn't said anything about girls being attacked but the parents don't wanna take the chance."

"Not really, but Dylan has already told us that if we see anything suspicious we go straight to Paul and the authorities." He had already talked to the police and as far as he knew every coach in the district was questioned.

"I'll see you later Andy." He waved her off, heading once again to the boys' gym.

As soon as he stepped into the gym something seemed off. He counted each boy, mentally checking his roster. One person was missing, one son, the son of a navy officer. His gut would've said I told you so if he gave it a chance, but he pushed the sinking feeling aside. It didn't help anyone if he jumped to conclusions, the boy could've gone to the bathroom or he was still in the locker room possibly styling his hair. Yeah, his gut would've laughed at his denial, he was not an investigator and it wouldn't do him any good or the boy any good for him to panic.

"Has anyone seen Bower?" Tony called out to the small group of boys on the high school basketball team. Simon Bower, who he knew had attended weight training earlier that day. When his result was a quiet shake of heads and everyone staring at each other and nowhere near the coach, not what he hoped, his gut sank further.

"Well uh he texted me that he was going home to grab his jersey, he forgot to pack it."

"When was that?" Tony marched over Michael Jenkins. The boy stepped back, eyes darting back and forth between his coach and the other boys. This was not an interrogation room, these were innocent boys he reminded himself, softening his gaze and stance, he needed to channel a little less Gibbs and a little more Maggie.

"Um a couple of hours ago. He used his off period to go home." Tony stepped back, running through the information available in their computers containing the name, date of birth, the grades of each student, and possibly the most important at this moment, address.

"Shit." Tony hastened towards the coaches office, thanking himself for neglecting to turn the computer off. His rusty investigator skills surging forth, happy to be of use once again. He pulled through the database in search of the boy and not his grades which persisted in being on the top window, but eventually he found the home address all the while cursing the sluggish speed of the system. When the address finally pulled up Tony tapped it into his phone, bringing up the directions.

Tony called emergency services, screaming at the young woman on the other end of the line that a student of his was missing, a son of a navy officer. When he said that the woman shut up and transferred him to a detective who listened intently to what he said. He was told not to go looking for the boy that the police were working on finding the killer and blah blah blah, remain calm, everything will be just fine speech. They had no clue what was going on.

Tony disregarded the advice, jumping onto his motorcycle and speeding away from school grounds. He recalled everything he knew of the student, lived off the military base with his family, and drives a beat up blue ford pick-up truck. Bower had gone on and on about the truck ever since he bought it with money he earned from working as a dishwasher. The basketball team had gone out one day before practice to see the truck, Bower showing off it off with pride. He knew he had to find the boy's truck because the killer always put the body back in the victim's car.

Tony broke traffic laws, speeding through lights and sharply turning corners whenever he could. He watched the parking lots straining to find an old beat up ford truck. He drove past an apartment complex, an old powder blue truck parked in front caught his eye, it couldn't be this easy. He turned sharply into the complex, parking his motorcycle next to the truck. For a moment he desperately wished he still had his hand gun, going looking for the boy unarmed was risky. He had no idea what to expect and with no handgun he had to be cautious.

He stepped carefully around the apartments, gazing through the windows on the bottom floor for each apartment in a frenzied hope. When he finished the first floor with no sighting of the boy he continued onto the second floor cursing the lack of windows. He paused at the apartment on the corner, peering through the peephole, the door creaked open at his slight touch. Inside the apartment the door leading to the bedroom was wide open, a young man strapped down squirming with ropes tied around his wrists and ankles. The boy turned towards the front door, long enough for Tony to recognize Bower.

He pushed the door open further, minding the possibility of squeaky hinges ready to alert the occupant for intruders. He pulled his knife from his shorts, one of Gibbs' rules stuck with him, holding it at the ready. Bower stared up at him from the bed, eyes wide, shaking his head. He jerked his head to the right towards another door in the bedroom, the killer was here.

Tony surveyed his surroundings, two doors, one for the apartment and another presumably for the bathroom and it was closed, hopefully it also had squeaky hinges, and three windows on the opposite wall from the door to the apartment. A white cotton sock stuffed in the boy's mouth, muffling the words he frantically shouted to his coach. Tony shushed him, slashing away at the bonds with his knife. He yanked at the rope after severing part of it, the bindings slipping off his wrists and ankles exposing the raw skin.

The student sat up, Tony pulling the sock from the Bower's mouth. "Coach…"

"Quiet." He ordered, holding a finger to the boy's mouth. "Go to your car and call the cops." He threw the boy to the door. Bower stumbled back, glancing to his coach. He glanced widely around, unsettled and nervous, his movements were frantic and Tony cursed those seconds the boy's adrenaline system was kicking in. Bower needed to flee right then, he didn't have the luxury of time to hesitate.

"What have you done?" A man shouted from behind Tony. Oh crap, was the first thing he thought when he heard the man. He had assumed he would hear the bathroom door open, hoping for squeaky hinges, new apartment, there shouldn't be any squeaky hinges in a new apartment. A hand immediately followed the voice, yanking on the back of his shirt. He dropped the knife in shock.

The man tossed him aside like a ragdoll, knocking his head with a loud resounding smack against the unyielding wall. The former NCIS agent fell to the floor in a heap, eyes fluttering from the hit. The world swam, images fuzzy, and the giant human shape in front of him didn't seem to care. He steadied himself on the floor, eyes focusing on the man's face. It took a second but his mind worked back to the basketball games and the creepy photographer, recognizing him as the man taking pictures. His student stood at the doorway, watching, Tony could see his body trembling and shaking.

"Bower." He calmly said, feeling something wet trickling down the back of his neck, "Call the cops."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

G and Sam were used to working together, they were partners, buddies, friends, whatever other people called them, they knew each other and they knew they could rely on each other during a moment of crisis. It wasn't unusual for them to listen to Eric chatter away with directions while G drove. Their destination this time was a high school out in the suburbs but this situation was far from normal.

Today, there were two additional agents riding along with them, and one of them G could feel glaring at him; the Marine Corps must train that glare, probably a requirement to be an effective marine, must have an effective glare. The glare grew worse and worse the longer he drove as though he wasn't driving fast and crazy enough through Los Angeles like he was in a high speed chase or an expensive Hollywood movie. The glare wasn't helping his driving, his passive aggressive side wanted to slow down, but they were on a case and he could handle a stubborn old marine for a case. Any longer and there might be strong words involved, and maybe some physical contact.

According to Eric, Kensi was working undercover at the school and she was already questioning people, mainly the coaches, though one specific coach was her primary contact. She supplied them with his basic information as per the stubborn old marine's request, the coach was called Sean Pierce and was a former Baltimore PD officer with excellent letters of recommendation. He had a sparkling career here and the students loved him, general consensus among the faculty was he was a great guy and his boyfriend was on the west coast. Every female teacher had told her, Sean was a great guy, too bad all the good ones are either gay or taken, but in his case both. She wanted to gag with how many times she had heard that and how the women seemed to have adored and cooed over the man. Was Sean Pierce really the Anthony Dinozzo she had met, the men looked a lot alike, but Sean never once tried to flirt with her when she talked to him. Not once. She was not about to dash the visiting team's hope that they had finally found their missing man. Certainly not going to do that while Gibbs was here, he seemed fine but even she could feel his glare at the school.

"The LAPD just got a call, there's a boy that says his coach just saved him from a guy, a guy who had him tied up." Eric said as if reading from the transcript of the call.

"Change the destination Eric."

"Already on it. You'll need to take a left down Jefferson." If there was a cue to drive and break traffic laws they had just received it.

"What's happened?" Ziva asked from the backseat, leaning forward in between the two front seats. G nearly hit her with his elbow.

" A boy called the police, apparently his coach saved him. We're heading there now."

"Any idea on who the coach is? The high school?" Gibbs spoke up, appearing as calm as can be, except for the glare.

Ziva settled back in her seat, keenly watching her boss, she knew there was a storm hiding behind the calm facade, a turmoil of emotions running the gamut from betrayal, hurt, pain, and hope to blessed relief. She knew because she was going through the same thing.

Ever since Abby had noticed Tony's face and somehow recognized him beneath the silly moustache and goatee, Gibbs gruff demeanor settled and calmed and he turned into a frightening man, one who she knew was ready to kill for his… former agent, which didn't sound quite right, Gibbs was more invested in this than he would be for any agent, this search was personal. She didn't really know what to call the relationship between Tony and Gibbs, and this new cold man hell bent on rescuing Tony was not someone she had seen before. He wouldn't act like this for just anyone; it was as if he had lost a friend, not just an agent. So ever since finding Tony Gibbs' calm veneer was slowly chipping away. There was only so much that any person could take, even their gruff stoic boss.

Since Tony had left a little over year and a half ago Gibbs had acted as a shadow of his former self. The first few days after Tony had disappeared Gibbs was uncharacteristically aloof, and slowly, ever so slightly allowed the small group to breathe easily once again. After half a year he started relaxing himself and month after month since then he gradually eased up until nearly everyone felt like the tension that had previously been there had simply disappeared. It all came roaring back that other day though as he barely said anything to anyone. He was in business mode, solely focused on finishing the mission and then finding Tony. He was going to bring him home, no matter what.

A siren wailed behind them, quickly followed by another, and soon more had joined in on the hunt. The streets of Los Angeles swerved past Gibbs as red and blue lights passed by the car, all in a rush to arrive in time to save the boy and save the day.

Their destination, an apartment complex not far from the high school, rapidly grew into view as they neared. Just inside the fence stood a trembling beacon of hope next to his powder blue pickup truck, the high school boy watching in anxious anticipation as he was surrounded by law enforcement and medical personnel vehicles.

An ambulance pulled alongside the blue truck, EMTs jumping out. The boy was going to be fine, a quick cursory glance revealed nothing serious or life threatening, the boy was okay, Gibbs reassured himself. Now what about the boy's savior, his coach.

G had just parked the car when Gibbs rushed out, his weapon unholstered and aimed towards the ground.

An officer pointed them in the direction of the apartments, second floor, something about they couldn't miss it. The crowd drowned the officer out.

The officer was right, they couldn't miss it, one of doors on the second floor was ajar.

The sight that greeted them there was unsettling. For a second no one moved, there were no words, and no sudden gasps. It wasn't the worst scene any of the agents had encountered before but this scene; it was personal and that made it much worse. The door to the apartment was wide open and inside was their long lost agent, who happened to be fighting a losing battle against someone twice his size. Blood ran down his arms and legs and it looked like the serial killer had taken Tony as his victim instead of the boy.

The former agent wasn't doing well; his attempted strikes against his assailant were feeble at best. It became apparent that his opponent had been trained in advanced hand to hand combat.

Suddenly, the other man struck Tony hard. He faltered, stepping back uneasily, leaning back onto the wall behind him. Gibbs pistol hand twitched, drawing up slightly.

Finish the case first, Tony second, Tony second. Tony was always second to the case, the agent had too many near death situations for Gibbs to count and he was not going to witness another. He had to wait though. Wait for clear signs of danger to himself or others before he could shot. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right, no conflict of interest. He would act like he had every other time Tony faced death. He would remain calm, and wait. There was nothing different about it this time, except that Tony had been missing for months before hand and could've actually been dead already and he would never have known. Why did it suddenly feel like this was personal, Tony was his friend, and Gibbs does everything in his power to keep his friends alive.

He had to stay back, Gibbs couldn't go forward first because he would shoot.

Sam was the first to move, stepping over the threshold and prompting the others to follow suit. The four of them stealthily moved forward into the apartment, the carpet flooring silencing their footsteps.

The assailant reached down for a fallen knife and Gibbs watched horrified as he raised it high, his harmful intent alarmingly clear. Time paused; hovering between the milliseconds when Tony saw the blade and when he raised a hand in defense, his other hand held back, ready to deliver a devastating blow. He was off the wall and a tremor wrecked him, he was unsteady on his feet.

The hand held up in defense fell, leaving him open. The knife arced through the air.

"NCIS!" Gibbs yelled.

A moment later he would regret shouting, announcing their presence. Right then though, seeing Tony look across the apartment to the four person rescue team sent a jolt of something through Gibbs. There wasn't any doubt that this was his man, this was his Tony, as soon as their eyes connected he knew. They had finally, after a year and a half they had finally found him. This time Gibbs was not going to lose him.

The look on Tony's face was best described as shock, mixed with stunning incredulity. Gibbs would have loved to slap his head and hug him- maybe kiss him. Right now though he would love the chance to punch the other man in the face and possibly demonstrate the variety of techniques he knew on how to inflict pain on the human body. He wouldn't have the time though. Tony had turned his back on the other man. He had taken the time to turn and look at his rescue. Those few precious seconds were all that the killer needed.

The scene was quick, and no one could easily recall later what had happened when, or who had even who fired first. They could only agree on one thing, the knife the killer held in his hand held lethal danger and undeniable deadly intent towards another. Even if that other happened to be a very personal and dear friend. Four shots rang out, but not before the former agent and would be savior became a victim, lying in his own blood on the dingy carpet.

The serial killer was down, ultimately, conclusively, and completely. G took the time to measure his pulse, even though there were four visible gunshot wounds, one of which was unequivocally dead center on the man's head.

Gibbs spared a single thought to the killer before dismissing him from his mind, that sadly he couldn't deliver the final physical, personal blow and telling him that you don't mess with my Anthony Dinozzo.

Gibbs kneeled next to his fallen friend, all too aware of the widening pool of blood. Tony was pale, but smiling, why did he have to smile, it only made the situation worse.

"Just like ol' times right boss?" Tony coughed, still smiling. It really was an infectious smile, Gibbs could feel his own mouth quirking at the corners in response. He wasn't happy though. Yes, he had his… Tony back, the team was complete again but he was injured.

"Hush now Tony." He wouldn't slap the man upside his head right now, he'll wait, he could wait. He can slap the man upside the head for leaving him after he received medical attention.

It was actually a little surprising the man was missing for a year and a half but seeing him now it was just like old times, it was like he had never left, almost. Somehow he was still the same man, still determined to keep the mood light no matter the situation (especially if that situation was potentially fatal).

Tony was reaching for him, a shaking hand tenderly reaching out to touch his cheek. Gibbs gripped the hand tightly; he turned it over when he noticed the touch was damp, the tip of a finger was wet but thankfully not red. There was too much blood here already.

Another hand appeared in sight, smaller, feminine but in no way soft. Ziva held tight to Tony, smiling down at him, tears tracking down her face. He belatedly realized that the water on Tony's hand was his tears. He blinked away the sense of fright that clung to his heart, schooling his features, concealing his emotions.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't like he expected the reunion to be rainbows and butterflies and kisses and hugs but right now he would even take that scary image. Right now just about anything was preferable to finally hold him again and yet to have him tragically have him taken away.

Seeing Tony again, his Tony, was not supposed to like this.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI Italics are things from the past. Tony is swimming in an out of consciousness...

Tony never questioned why he lived. He had beaten the bubonic plague, survived isolation in a shipping container for over 12 hours with a Mussad trained assassin, and he was tortured when pretending to be married to the same assassin. Somehow it seems he ended up with extra lives like a cat. NCIS' own wikipedia like medical examiner could probably explain in a rather lengthy monologue why felines were said to extra lives. In fact Ducky might have already talked about cats and their extraordinary ability to elude death and Tony had simply tuned him out. He's done that before and he knows he wasn't the only one. The assistant Palmer was perhaps the only person who listened faithfully to each monologue. Tony knew he was not a cat and somehow he managed to evade death just the same. He had lost count of how often death was on his doorstep, standing there, ringing the doorbell and probably tapping its feet waiting for him to kick the proverbial bucket. Dying today would be a cause of celebration for the grim reaper; he would have succeeded in reaping the elusive Anthony Dinozzo, the human who had too many lives to count.

He hoped he didn't die today. Really, really hoped he wasn't going to die today.

What had started as any other normal day living in Los Angeles while a serial killer was on the loose had turned south by that afternoon. He had weaved through the streets of Los Angeles on his motorcycle looking for a missing student, presumably the serial killer's next victim since the boy was the son of a Naval Officer. It wasn't the smartest thing he had ever done; he had no back up and no handgun. But it was the impulse to act which had brought him to the streets and to the apartment complex where he had noticed the boy's pickup truck. From there it was finding the apartment, an easy task since the door was wide open. Next up was untying the boy and escaping. If only the boy had run away, by the time his fight or flight response had kicked in Tony was sprawled against the wall, attacked by the heavy set man that had walked out of the bathroom. Fortunately the boy still had two brain cells to rub together and he summoned the energy to run out of the room and hopefully remembered to call the police. Now Tony was squared off against someone twice his size and no side arm and the chance of backup was questionable and if backup was on its way the chance it would arrive in time was dismal. He really didn't need to think about what an idiot he had been for running into a situation heart first again, caution to the wind and death waiting for him once again.

Tony proved an effective distraction, keeping the serial killer in the apartment and away from his intended victim. The scuffle was stacked against him. The odds were not in his favor and he had a feeling his old friend Death was possibly tapping his foot and examining his fingers nails right then, waiting impatiently for his elusive mark to kick the bucket.

Only the odds shifted, fortune falling his way. Where he had been fighting the bulky killer by himself he saw four maybe six people, he couldn't tell since they were constantly shifting. He must've been knocked on the head too many times now, his vision was swaying. Two of the people he recognized as Sam and G from the Los Angeles branch of NCIS. They were standing outside the apartment with their guns ready. Death probably threw up his arms and left, huffing and cursing at the wrench thrown into his plans. He was not going to die today.

The serial killer struck him again and he tripped on his feet. He staggered back, leaning on the wall, when had falling become such a welcome option. The world was spinning around him. He was the center and if he moved his head a little to the left or to the right the world moved to. Everything moved when he did. It was getting harder to hold his head up. He could fall back against the wall right then and just watch the world. He wasn't going to die today, no, there was no way he could die today certainly not if he fell and let himself be.

Something flashed before him; catching his attention in the haze his vision had been reduced to. A knife, the killer, a knife, the killer had a knife in his hands. Why couldn't he work that out faster. All Tony wanted to do was sit back and be so why was the man in front of him begrudging him this. His mind struggled through the murk, this man was a killer and he had a knife in hand. It took him too long to raise a hand in defense and his other ready to strike, waiting for perfect opportunity to hit him. Or maybe he shouldn't have moved, even rocking forward and shifting his body was making it harder to stand on his own two feet. He had dropped his hands and the knife had moved. Maybe he was going to die today.

Someone shouted "NCIS" and about time too. It sounded strained though, the voice oddly distinctive, familiar. His heart clenched in hope. Gibbs was here and if Gibbs was here that meant one thing; Tony wasn't going to die today.

Never mind how shocked he was that Gibbs had miraculously appeared bringing a gun to a knife fight. He was here now. Gibbs was here and everything would be just fine. The former marine would slap him on the head just like old times, good-naturedly and Tony couldn't stop the smile the memory brought. It seemed no matter how far he had run, how far he had tried to slip away from his former team and their leader- they found him. Gibbs was here now, everything would be just fine, and he wasn't going to die today.

Something blossomed inside of him. It was hard to bear, the pain hit him quickly and then left leaving a strangely white and comforting sensation, and numbly he wondered where the knife was now since the killer's hands were empty. There was roaring in his ears, he was falling. He didn't know when he hit the floor, but he was on his back. He could rest now, lay down on the floor and simply be. He had seen Gibbs, he was safe.

A gun was fired. More than one gun, but he didn't hear how many.

The killer wasn't standing above him anymore.

Faces swam above him, a dark figure quickly moved out the door and then out of sight and out of mind. Someone shoved another out of the way, taking up most of his vision. This face was a strikingly welcome sight. No matter how many men and women had the same haircut he could always recognize Gibbs, the former marine was distinctive. He had never found out what it was like to kiss him, maybe he could kiss him and thank him for saving his ass one last time.

" _What would you do if you saw him again?"_

_Apologize for running away; ask for a spot on the team. Ask for forgiveness. Tell him what happened, tell him why. Make a joke. Tell about his father and his obsession. "Kiss him." Or that._

_What would he kiss like?_

_Would Jethro be sweet and pliant with roaming hands and a curious touch, his warm hands pressed against the small of Tony's back pulling him into the kiss, holding him there, somehow in control of the kiss. His touch tender and patient while he kissed oh but the former marine's hands would skirt across dangerous territory, skimming above his pants, cupping his ass and tugging him gently closer. Tony would moan into the kiss when his hands shyly moved to the front, fondling him. That's when Jethro would step back and stare longingly into his eyes, asking him to go further._

_Or Jethro would be demanding, lashing out and holding Tony tight against his firm, muscled body, possessing him, owning him. Romantically passionate, like a starved man finally allowed to eat. Jethro would mark him, low on his neck near the clavicle, whisper into his ear that Tony was his, and he was never letting go._

"You're going to be fine. That's an order."

_He held the picture up, the only memento of his former life, and smiled at the easy camaraderie between him and Gibbs. Ever since they had first collided together in Baltimore, things worked between them. Gibbs never pushed him to act more serious, act his age, the former marine let him be, allowed him his childish front. Somehow they two of them had clicked._

_His heart ached for them, worse than anything he wished he could see them, almost like Edmund Dantes in The Count of Monte Cristo, sadly he had no plans for some grand scheme culminating into the perfect revenge for those who wished him ill, and no hidden treasure horde of countless chests filled with gold._

_No that's what his family had in some secret vault, that and Jimmy Hoffa's body._

_Jethro had found a place in his heart and was not letting go. The former marine was still there after all this time, waiting in the back of his mind for when Tony was alone. By himself in his room he could take the picture out and reminisce. Here there was no Sean Pierce, only Anthony Dinozzo, a tired and lonely man, tired of leaving behind lives and friends, tired of running and its solitary life._

_Foolishly he had thought those seven years his father had forgotten him and decided to disown his only son. His father had been biding his time, waiting, letting Tony grow close with others, form connections, making it harder when Tony ran._

_This was worse than getting over Jeanne, back then he still had his family, he still had his team. Now, now he had no one._

_His phone beeped. It was a text message from Sam. "Jack's being mean to me. She's with mcWhatHisName and won't go with me to see Stonehenge today. You wanna come with?"_

_Tony sighed, he wasn't alone, no there were people here he had made friends with. Sam was like a little sister and was an effective distraction but sometimes he didn't know why she hadn't been punched by some local yet for confusing the Irish and the Scottish, the only thing she didn't botch was her history, she knew the history of the United Kingdom backwards and proved a better guide on some occasions, and Mrs. Maggie was perhaps the most mother henning person he had met, his surrogate mother was happy to pack lunches for Sam and Tony whenever they went out, the woman also managed to have dinner ready precisely when they returned, or at least adequately warmed if they came back late._

_So did he want to go to sightseeing today or not. He debated it for a second, looking at the photograph in his hand one last time before replying 'Yes' to her message._

_Getting over the team meant not thinking about them. He could handle a few hours with a miniature Ducky, at least he's had practice enough to tune her out if need be, assuming she doesn't realize that he had. She's punched him on the arm before, never hard enough to hurt but always accompanied by a glare, and a paraphrasing of her monologue._

_She was a welcome distraction keeping his mind away from the picture and people he left. They visited Stonehenge and drove around the country before returning to Mrs. Maggie's where a fresh dinner was waiting for them. Later they walked together to the pub where Sam decided to act like a child for five minutes and scowl at Jack before opening up and blabbing on about their day._

_In his small room that night he took the picture out again, looking over it, smoothing away the ridges. The ache returned to his heart, like it had never left. What would the team be doing right then._

Tony forced his eyes open, he could barely see. He lifted his head up a little but the pain stopped him, his upper body felt like it went through the ringer with Muhammad Ali and his hair was stuck to his forehead. Had he really seen Jethro and Ziva? What happened in the apartment? Was Bower safe? A light flashed briefly in front of each eye, sweeping across.

"Name?"

"Anthony Dinozzo." A deep and highly recognizable voice answered.

He dragged his mind through the murk. Was it Jethro? Jethro didn't know his name, he didn't know about Sean Pierce. No, his dad, his dad would catch that Anthony Dinozzo was on the west coast. He couldn't find out. He couldn't find out about Sean Pierce.

"Prior hospitalizations?"

_He needed a better distraction. London was great, Mrs. Maggie was wonderful but he needed to stop thinking about Gibbs and the team. He needed to forget about Abby coming in each Christmas decked in holiday splendor. He needed to stop fantasizing what life would be like at NCIS if he was still there._

_If they were on a case Ziva would be questioning some American phrase and beating it to pieces and leaving the McGeek to the heavy hacker lifting. The assassin was a valuable member of the team but her computer skills could use some improvement, but she was still better than their boss. Gibbs would be at his desk or on a caffeine run fueling the scientist monkey who deciphered their evidence and provided useful insight on the cases, she had broken them wide open many times too. If Gibbs wasn't careful McGee might be playing solitaire or tetris on his computer. He had a shortcut on his computer that would toggle between different views while running searches._

_He would be throwing paper at McGee, laughing when he managed to hit him and when Gibbs started to glare at him and looked ready to protest his treatment of the geek he would switch targets and move on to the trashcan. He was being productive, waiting for the computer system to finish searching through the various databases for the information on the victim or the suspect._

_Jethro would glance his way, those eyes seeing everything. Someone comments about food, and Ziva would ask about Chinese or Italian and then there would be a debate on which Italian place has the best lasagna or spaghetti sauce. Abby, even in the dungeon of NCIS would know they were discussing food and their preferences for the night's dinner and she calls up with her two cents. Tim speaks up then, settling them on something else they hadn't been talking about, usually a pizza or Chinese because really they did have the best delivery. Wherever they called the place had their orders down, one of the perks of being a regular customer._

_Abby would call them down to her lab having cracked the case wide open. They had conclusive evidence on the killer then. Gibbs and he would drive away with their food waiting for them on their desks. They pass by a marina where a small wooden boat bounces along in the water reminding him of Gibbs and his own basement boat and how Jethro looked working on the boat wearing a thin shirt, smelling of whiskey and sawdust._

_There was no avoiding the fantasy that came with Jethro and his thin shirts that barely covered him no matter how baggy they were. The shirts hugged the muscles and hid them, enticing Tony to rake his eyes over his chest where the shirt draped just right and he could see damn near everything._

_They apprehended the suspect and again brought them back to the interrogation room. Tony fights another fantasy, one where Jethro has him on the desk in the interrogation room and they're trying to finish before anyone noticed they were gone. Gibbs grunts above him, he can't stop and each second they can be caught but neither of them could resist the chance._

_The ache in his heart grew each time he fantasized and dreamt. This was not helping him. He needed to stop this. London was not enough of a distraction. He needed something else; he needed to leave the UK or else he would do something stupid and try to contact them. He had caught himself plenty of times almost dialing some person's number, usually Jethro's._

_Contacting his former team was not an option. His father might still be watching the headquarters, waiting for Tony to contact those closest to him, as much as he wanted to he was unable to for fear of their wellbeing and his own safety. His father was as patient as he was mad. So every time he found himself hovering above the phone, ready to press the familiar rhythmic pattern on the number pad he called someone else, bugging Sam who was all too pleased to hear from him._

_He would look for a job, but where. The east coast was out of the question; his father had kicked him out of every town and city effectively blocking the eastern seaboard. That left him anything westward of the Appalachian Mountains. He's always wanted to visit the movie making capital of the United States; he could try his shot out in California._

Something warm was taken away from him. Tony moved with it. The small spot of warmth was immediately back. "…right here Tony. I'm not going anywhere."

"good."

_He was taking another flight across the ocean, this time crossing the American continent as well. There was no sultry woman at his side trying to seduce him. No business man sleeping through the night. No girls discussing bond excitedly in the aisle over._

_Unfortunately there were screaming children howling like banshees and when the families changed flights on JFK it made it all the better. He could handle the teenaged girls and the college girls. He could handle Sam, but a screaming infant learning its lungs and testing out their full vocal capabilities was not something he considered pleasurable. No that would be cruel and unusual punishment to undergo screaming children the entire flight._

_He was going to a new life now. Still the same old Sean Pierce but a new city and new opportunities, maybe in a few years' time he could return to the eastern seaboard, visit the headquarters. Finally find out how Gibbs managed to take the boats out of his basement. The train of thought stopped there, he really didn't need to think about Jethro and his boat. Not while he was on a plane surrounded by strangers._

_New life, new history, a new Sean Pierce. He could drop Gibbs, give himself a chance at romance in the city of angels. Undiscovered possibilities lay ahead of him. But could he forget Jethro, could he leave them all behind._

_This may be a new life in Los Angeles but he was the same old Dinozzo wishing for the same old life with a stubborn (former) marine at his side and pistol on his hip. New city, same old Tony._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter does talk about abuse.

Chapter 14

Years ago Leroy Jethro Gibbs ran into a man, Anthony DiNozzo, who was all too eager to leave Baltimore. Gibbs never questioned the man's enthusiasm. He accepted it as part of the man's character. Gibbs learned to accept many things as part of Tony's character: his love of movies, his lack of a survival instinct when others were in danger, the inappropriate comments at inappropriate times, skirt chasing, and the childish antics which he later realized was only a cover for his seriousness. That was Anthony DiNozzo. Though there were many things he learned each day about the "very special" agent, but if asked Gibbs could reliably say he knew and understood the man. Even if Gibbs didn't supporting every word and action of Tony's he still knew him.

Or at least he felt that way until Anthony DiNozzo vanished, deserting Gibbs. And the team.

Tony had been a constant in Gibbs' life. He was always there, lifting his spirit even when Gibbs was unaware he needed it. Tony was his second in command and had an intimate understanding of Gibbs and his temper. He had shown up before unannounced in Gibbs' basement with a six pack in hand and a sad story on his lips. Only for the conversation to turn to Gibbs and all pretense of Tony's personal dilemma discarded. It was during those visits that Gibbs found himself gradually opening up and confiding a little bit of whatever emotional conflict he was currently involved in. After a while the beer was an excuse; it took less and less alcohol for him to speak his due. Tony never mentioned if he noticed that Gibbs needed only one bottle before he said anything. He still brought the beer. There were times when Gibbs would offer Tony more and more bourbon when the man was in a particularly sullen disposition. Tony would sip his liquor, savor the flavor, and swirl the amber liquid in the glass before looking up at Gibbs and pouring out his troubles.

One memorable visit was after they had finished a difficult case where they failed to save the second victim by mere minutes, despite Tony having rushed in before back up had arrived. Days later Tony showed up at Gibbs' house standing at the top of the stairs to the basement where Gibbs was hammering away at his new boat. He had a six pack in hand and the smell of pizza wafted down into the basement. Gibbs worked intently on his boat, working through his emotions and wondering why he was wishing for his senior field agent. The sound of a bottle opening drew Gibbs from his boat, pausing on the next strike. His wish was standing on the stairs with a six pack, minus one, in one hand and drinking from one in the other hand and wearing a tight shirt and loose cut off shorts that had seen better days.

"Hey boss." Tony said, wiping his shirt across his sweaty face and revealing taut muscles.

Gibbs set his tools on the workbench, walking to Tony and the beer and determinedly staring exclusively at the beer and not at Tony. Gibbs cracked open a bottle of liquid amber and drained it. Tony followed him into the kitchen. The pizza was on the counter still steaming. Pepperoni, sausage, ham, and mushrooms covered its surface, his favorite toppings, not Tony's, Gibbs. The only time Tony would willingly order mushrooms on a pizza, when he was covering his worries and concerns. They tore into the food. Ignoring the silence punctuated by grateful groans and loud gulps. It wasn't awkward but it was the preface to Tony asking Gibbs a question and Gibbs countering, turning the tables on Tony.

They ended up on the couch, legs touching and Gibbs attempting to overlook their proximity. It was growing increasingly harder not to notice the man sitting next to him, especially after he worked out or at work or when he was playing basketball- it was hard just not to see him, with his pretty hazel eyes and classic all American looks. Gibbs wasn't blind. He knew the man was attractive when he first met him but the clownish exterior and the fact that Gibbs was the man's superior kept him from pursuing the cocky Italian, that and rule twelve.

"It's difficult, thinking you can make it in time. Running and hoping we'll get there in time." Sip. "I keep running through the damn thing. Trying to find a way that we could've arrived minutes earlier and saved her life. I feel like it's my fault that she died."

"It's not your fault Tony." Gibbs patted him on the knee. "We couldn't have gotten there before we did."

"It's happened before. We get there at the last minute. Too late to do anything but make them comfortable." Tony gestured with his beer, a bottle of Gibbs' beer since they had drained the six pack, until his head fell sideways onto Gibbs shoulder. Where he looked up at the older man. Icy blue eyes and hazel green locked together, something intangible passing between them. For one second the world paused. Tony licked his lips, enticing Gibbs like none of his last three ex-wives could. Gibbs downed the rest of the beer, needing the liquid courage more than anything.

"Boss?" McGee called from the front hall closing the door behind him.

Gibbs bolted upwards, jarring Tony from his perch. Tony's slow reactions a testament to the number of beers they've drowned. It certainly wasn't because Tony, his distinctly off limits senior field agent, had something else on his mind besides talking.

"Oh hey join the party probie." Tony slurred while waving his empty beer bottle. The shift from the real Tony to the clown was subtle and swift, Gibbs almost didn't see the transition. Tony's mask was firmly back in place in McGee's presence.

It was at Gibbs' house when he realized that the goof ball on the outside was Tony's cover. When it was just the two of them, Tony was earnest and pleasant; it was rare that Gibbs would want to slap him aside the head when they were alone (there were still those odd moments which earned a playful smack).

He had never thought those comfortable visits would end. When Tony left, he had lost something dear. Each day became a painful reminder made all the more painful to have lost someone special and not grasp the reason why.

The search was drawing to a close. In spite of the exhilaration and joy from finding his lost agent he couldn't breathe easy, not yet, not now. Tony was injured in the end. Only he wasn't Anthony DiNozzo anymore. He was Sean Pierce now, high school PE teacher and basketball coach.

And yet despite it all he was still the same person.

Tony (as Sean) was recklessly running into danger whenever someone was in trouble. He was the same man, only a different name (and a goatee). So they ended up at the hospital again, Tony having sacrificed himself for someone else, again. Nothing had changed. Hell he even ordered the man to stay alive, told him he wasn't going to die this time, again. Just like old times.

What he wouldn't give for the good ol' days, when he knew Tony was healthy and whole, safe and sound and with the team. Somehow it was harder to handle knowing that they weren't there in time because Tony wasn't part of the team anymore.

It was hard to let him go through the hospital doors. Gibbs had held his hand in the ambulance, answered the questions about his health. He knew everything there was about Tony, everything that they needed to know. Everything but why he left him.

The hospital was quiet. The constant chatter and beeping of electronics merged into a dull hum. It was background noise, nothing distracting. Gibbs was engrossed and riveted by the swinging doors where through he last saw his missing agent.

He couldn't leave the hospital. Tony couldn't disappear again. Not here. Not now that Gibbs found him.

He was vaguely aware of Tim moving away, talking with someone over the phone.

"Boss." Tim said, holding out his cell phone to Gibbs.

Gibbs reached for the smartphone, how long had McGee been trying to catch his attention.

"Hello." He croaked. It must've been awhile since he had last spoken.

"Jethro." Ducky stated. In one word that man could say more than many witnesses could in five minutes. His consoling tone meant he knew Tony was in trouble, medical trouble.

Ducky knew about Tony's injuries and how he had acquired them. How he had recklessly risked his life to save someone else's. Gibbs didn't have to talk all too much with Ducky. The gentleman reassured and calmed Gibbs' unvoiced anxiety. Ducky relieved Gibbs' of the burden of articulating his own fears and worries. He continued to be unsettled after watching Tony be wheeled away behind swinging doors injured and out of Gibbs' scope of influence. He was powerless against this, against the world. He couldn't protect the person that he loved. It was Ducky who supplied the conversation. It was Ducky who moved it forward. It was Ducky who kept Gibbs' anger and pain from wreaking havoc around him.

A few minutes later after Tim walked away with his phone talking to Abby that Gibbs realized his hands weren't clenched tight anymore. He sank into a chair as he noticed his breathing was deeper and slower and that his thoughts weren't centered on killing the man who had attacked Tony in a multitude of vicious scenarios. While rational thought was still outside of his reach he could suffer patiently while waiting for news of Tony's condition.

"Gibbs?" Special Agent G Callen said, next to him was his partner Sam Hanna.

They sat down across from him their chairs squeaking as Tim and Ziva joined them. The two NCIS teams looked ready to face off against each other.

"We checked into Tony's alias, Sean Pierce. He started working at the high school the beginning of the school year in August as a PE teacher. Before that there is limited information on him. We know he flew into Los Angeles from London Heathrow in last June. July, two years ago, there are records of him leaving the US and flying into London Heathrow. Financials checked out. He had no credit cards but he made monthly withdrawals from a bank while in London starting in December."

"It was like he was a ghost." Sam said.

"Tony is the best undercover agent. If he did not want to be found he would not be." Ziva grudgingly admitted. She was jealous of his easy ability to slip into his undercover roles. It was as though the man was a born actor who played at being a cop. If he hadn't been a police officer he might've made a killer living working as a con man.

Tony had been the best of them. She knew his skills personally, how he could pacify a target and mollify their suspicions through his swaggering and hotshot attitude. He was on every undercover assignment and if trouble ensued Gibbs knew he could depend on his senior field agent to keep a clear mind and a steady hand.

"That still doesn't explain why he left." Tim said, leaning forward in his chair.

"Kensi said there was a rumor at the school that he had a boyfriend on the east coast."

"What?" Tim and Ziva exclaimed, mirroring each other's shock. Neither of them had known about Tony's ambiguous sexual preferences. Gibbs kept his surprise to himself. Could he really have left because of a boyfriend. They've investigated cases before where a spouse had run away because of an unhealthy and destructive relationship. If Tony had been in a harmful situation how could they have been so blinded by his cocky goofball persona that they couldn't see the pain their teammate was in.

"He could've left because of an abusive relationship." G voiced Gibbs' thoughts. Tim and Ziva looked like they were still absorbing Tony's newly revealed bisexuality. "Maybe his boyfriend took things too far one day. He beat him and took it further. Forced himself on Tony. In response he bolted. Tony couldn't stand living near the boyfriend anymore and ran. It would account for why he changed his name and left the country. He could have wanted to put as much distance between himself and the other man even if that meant leaving NCIS. "

"That would also explain why Tony's apartment was trashed. The boyfriend was furious and when he figured out that Tony ran he destroyed his lover's apartment. " Tim added, crediting their speculative story.

That's the only thing it could be. It was the only thing that Gibbs could consider. It had to be speculation. Under no circumstances would Gibbs have not noticed the effects of an abusive relationship on his senior field agent. He could see through the wise guy attitude. He knew the man that lay beneath. There may be scars on him, psychological remnants of his past, things that Gibbs may have disregarded some point or another but there were some things he could not overlook. Especially not as an investigator. He had seen how victims could snap continuous years of abuse, injuring themselves and their abusers in the process, or running away and leaving everything they know behind. Sometimes the abusers grew worse over the course of the relationship. Their words turned into physical actions leaving visible evidence that could be used against them in court.

He had never once seen an unaccountable bruise or scar on Tony. Gibbs had looked at the his senior field agent's body enough to know the ancient scars from childhood, the ones he never spoke of, and the bruises from the hard labor of NCIS. He had seen the body in the showers after a strenuous workout at the headquarters, or even after a grueling case outside in the muggy summer heat. But he wasn't constantly watching him.

There were times when he mentioned an odd discoloration and Tony waved it off or worse when he would jokingly say he fell down a flight of stairs. Sometimes Tim or Abby would ask about his plans for an evening and Tony would say he had plans for a quiet night at home and the next morning he would arrive unexplainably tardy and listless.

"Why wouldn't he have come to us though?" Tim questioned the group.

Sam declared. "Well how would you feel as a strong, capable NCIS agent who has an abusive boyfriend and you can't stop them. Maybe he felt he was weak if he told you. It could be that it was easier for him to leave NCIS and not worry about ever meeting his boyfriend again."

Tim scratched the back of head and Tony could still be the carefree goofball. It was plausible that Tony wouldn't tell anyone. Even his happiest relationships Tim knew little about. There was a secret side of him that Tim admittedly never saw. Reasonably Tim had his own personal life and issues that he never shared at work.

Gibbs considered that maybe Tony could have left NCIS because he couldn't bear the team knowing about someone hurting him, especially if it was someone who was supposed to love and care for him, and add to it that it was another man and the thought of going to the team might have been unnerving. If he had to reveal the abuse and reveal his sexuality at the same time it might have been daunting. For all Gibbs cared, Tony could have sex with two women and another man or whatever he wanted. Tony was always the womanizer and having his bisexuality on display was not something he would want. The man had his secrets and apparently his sexuality was one of them. For Tony to openly display such varied sexual preferences would leave him vulnerable to prejudice and bigotry. There more cases than Gibbs could count of attacks against homosexuals and bisexuals. While he didn't wholly agree hiding part of himself from his coworkers he couldn't share the knowledge without fear of aggression.

Gibbs could relate. He had his own fair share of problems relating to sexuality. He has had moments of confusion and desire, lusting for another man. Each time though the desire eventually dissipated and he moved on comfortable in his own sexuality and masculinity. Other men (mostly case related) he has seen have difficulties lusting after another man, perturbed by their own inexplicable bisexuality. There were also men in the marines that he knew personally and had no qualms with that were dishonorably discharged because of their preferred sexual relations.

The idea of telling an overprotective investigative team about an abusive boyfriend might end with said abusive boyfriend suddenly missing or dying of a prescription drug overdose, certainly nothing that could be traced back to them. That or the man would end up in the hospital uttering that he fell down the stairs and managed to break several bones in the process. And his information might end up leaked on the internet and his computer's hard drive crammed to the last byte with child pornography. So running to the team because of an abusive boyfriend might not be the smartest idea.

Gibbs was a bastard, a jealous bastard at that. Someone hurting a team member would swiftly learn their lesson. They would leave Gibbs' team alone. No one hurts Gibbs' team. No one hurts Tony. That included significant others, both past and present. Tony was under Gibbs' protection whether he liked it or not and he would know it soon enough.

"Any ideas on who this boyfriend is?" Gibbs asked, already planning a very productive meeting with the abusive boyfriend. He knew the law and he knew how to skirt its limitations.

"No, in fact we were hoping your team would have an idea. We checked his cell phone records, both personal and professional, and no one stands out. It's like he had a third cellphone he used to talk to his boyfriend."

If Tony had a boyfriend then Gibbs had never noticed it or any of the telltale signs. There was always a certain bounce to Tony's step when he'd been laid the night before. He was still cheeky but his goofball antics were more playful like he wasn't covering up and he genuinely enjoyed himself. But before he fled he wasn't acting as though his nights had changed. His taunts at work were the same. He acted the same. There was no indication.

Could that have been it with the boyfriend, was the boyfriend fed up with Tony because the other refused to consummate their relationship? Could he have forced himself on Tony? If that was the case then, Tony was not leaving Gibbs' sight. His senior agent needed protecting. Tony needed protection.

"We'll keep an eye on him, we need to be careful."

"The boyfriend is on the East Coast." Ziva said.

"And Tony fled the country. If he felt the need to cross an ocean then his boyfriend is dangerous."

It was out of the question to leave Tony alone for the time being.

Gibbs' left the room, wandering down the hall in search of his caffeine fix. Ziva paced, pausing every so often to glance forlornly at the door. Tim couldn't sit still, his foot tapping the floor in an erratic beat. Sam and G stood of to the side talking in hushed tones.

When Gibbs arrived back to their small waiting room, a cup of coffee in hand a nurse was speaking to McGee. The nurse paused, looking over to Gibbs and announcing that they could see Sean now.

Gibbs didn't need any more invitation. He checked with a receptionist where DiNozzo's room was. When the woman at the desk looked skeptically from him to her computer screen and back again he remembered and corrected himself, asking for directions to Sean Pierce's room.

After a trek through the hospital halls that seemed longer than necessary Gibbs finally saw his former senior agent. Gibbs smiled when he saw Tony awake and sitting up in the hospital bed grinning like a madman talking to the one of the nurses, a curvy black woman who was fiddling with his IV. There were bandages around his head and upper chest. Leads and a line were attached to his chest and arm leading back to the monitors and IV bags behind him. This was a familiar sight.

"Tony." Tim exclaimed, eagerly moving ahead and dodging the nurse who was leaving the room.

"McGeek. How are you doing? I see you brought the most of the family with you. How's the rest of them, you know, Abby, Ducky, and Palmer?" Tony asked, halfheartedly grinning when he saw the team.

Gibbs stood in the back of the group waiting while everyone surrounded Tony. The immobile patient who hugged everyone one handed, his left arm resting uselessly on his stomach. The stab wound to his shoulder had undoubtedly cut through muscle which had already been taken care of. Besides that Tony was still attractive. His life in California had earned him a nice tan. He hadn't lost his muscles while he was away. If anything he had worked harder and it showed, his body was more defined and toned. The changes made his all American features more dramatic and arresting.

"They're doing well and they can't wait to see you. Abby has been bugging me nonstop to send a picture of you and for you to call her. And she tells me that Ducky keeps coming in to her lab to check up on her, she thinks it's just because he wants to hear from you too."

"She was the one who found you." Ziva chimed in. She couldn't stop grinning. Tony was alive and well. It was reassuring to see him well again after the shock of witnessing the blood spill from his body.

"Oh well, I'll have to thank her. If it wasn't for her then the serial killer might still be on the loose. How is Bower doing?"

"The boy?"

Tony nodded.

"He is well. He is with his family right now. He had suffered minor injuries from his capture. You arrived in time to save him." G said. It was due to Tony's protective and investigative instincts that they were able to find the killer.

"Great. That's good. Kid almost didn't make it out in time. I almost had to shove him out the door. He really needs to work on his survival instincts."

"What about you Tony?" Ziva asked, her grin hadn't disappeared but she stared down at him with concern evident in her eyes. There were still unanswered questions.

"What about me?"

"Well how are you holding up? We haven't seen or heard from you in over a year." Tim clarified.

Gibbs stayed quiet, letting his agents ask the questions. He would speak to Tony by himself.

G's phone buzzed, he and Sam quietly left the room.

"I needed to get away from things. The job was getting to me. I couldn't save people in time. Bad guys kept walking away. I just didn't want to do that anymore."

"We missed you."

"I couldn't do it anymore guys. There wasn't anything for me there." That was a load of bullshit if Gibbs heard it. As evidenced by Tony's need to save the boy. There was nothing stopping his protective instincts from going into overdrive when someone's life was on the line. He also had an innate curiosity that fueled his passion; the man was a born investigator. He would never leave that life for anything. But he had and Gibbs needed to know why.

"McGee, David, I need to talk to DiNozzo alone." Gibbs gruffly ordered. The other two nodded, not daring to speak against him. They left.

"Long time no see boss. So how were the kids while I was gone? Did they play nicely?" Tony was back alright and he was as insufferable as ever. Although Gibbs had hoped that alone Tony wouldn't fall back on his cocky clownish mask. There really must be something going on if he had felt the need to slide in hold habits to protect himself.

Gibbs would've smacked him upside the head for making him worry so much if he didn't think that it would complicate matters. He really did not want to be the reason Tony stayed in the hospital any longer than he had to.

"I should be asking you that. I hear that you're a PE coach now."

"Yeah I wanted to have my own inspiring story about a coach and his team. You know, have a movie made about our heroic efforts and maybe have Brad Pitt cast as the actor."

"So what happened DiNozzo?" Why did you leave me. Why did you leave NCIS. There were too many questions. It was the easiest question to ask. It was possibly one of the most important questions too. No one knew why for certain, Gibbs included.

"Apparently I'm not that inspiring. It is a lot harder than it looks to be inspiring. I really had to try." Tony answered, purposefully dodging the question. He knew how to work an interrogation and he knew the way questions would head and how to direct someone. Now that Tony was the one being interrogated it was proving more difficult to gain a straight response from him.

"What had happened two years ago when you left NCIS?" Gibbs gritted. It was harder acknowledging this than he had expected. He had lived with this for a while now, so why was it suddenly so difficult.

"Like I said. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to leave."

"Tony."

"Yeah boss?"

"I know about your boyfriend." Tony jerked up against the bed, seemingly confirming the boyfriend theory.

"You do?" Tony stammered out. Was it out of surprise because Gibbs knew about the boyfriend or the despair that it meant the team knew he was bisexual. He had worked hard to cement the ladies' man reputation.

"Yes. Tony did… he hurt you?" Gibbs worked around the disturbing topic. He found his tongue tied when he tried to ask if Tony had been raped, forced, or coerced into something he wasn't ready for. This was his friend and he couldn't bring himself to ask the necessary questions.

"What no. No. He would never… never hurt me."

Could he actually be defending the boyfriend who had most likely had abused Tony in some way. Some victims of abuse would say it was their fault. They did something and they deserved it, forcing the other to attack them. Domestic abuse was not in any way the victim's fault. Gibbs was too familiar with that thought process when something as pure as love was tainted by abuse. Tony had to know he was safe now. The boyfriend couldn't hurt him anymore and Gibbs would do everything in his power to see the bastard locked away.

"Tony your boyfriend can't get to you now. You're safe. What happened?"

"No!… My boyfriend didn't hurt me. Everything was fine Gibbs. I left on a plane and decided I needed to do some traveling, see the sights, and experience strange new cultures before changing careers."

"And changing your name? Leaving behind everything? Your apartment was trashed."

"What? My apartment? He…" Tony shut up, refusing to look at Gibbs, pretending he hadn't given himself away.

It was damn tempting to swat the man, concussion or not his refusal to say anything was irritating and grinding on Gibbs' frayed nerves. How the hell could he protect Tony if he wouldn't tell him why he fled in the first place? He couldn't keep him locked away. He wanted Tony back. It was then that he knew Tony had stopped being just his senior field agent and was much more than he was prepared to acknowledge.

"Damnit Tony! Why did you leave me?"


End file.
